Seas Of The Viper
by Messernacht
Summary: The tale of a young man competing in a oneofakind gladitorial competition, where boats take the place of combatants, all while uncovering the meanings behind the death of his father. Written in the Matthes Reilly STYLE
1. Prologue

Prologue

Susan got up off the couch and strode over to the television. With a vicious sweep, she turned it off and collapsed back onto the settee. A sigh escaped her as her hands covered her face. For a brief moment, she sobbed softly. Then, she regained her composure. No matter what had happened, she would always be there for her husband.

Suddenly, with a crash, the door flew open. The pouring rain and darkness outside was temporarily blocked as a man stumbled in through the door. Shrugging off his coat, the man threw his hat onto the table and straightened his back. Susan spoke softly. "Charles. Are you alright?"

Charles Merkenson gazed at her with blood-shot eyes. "Am I all right? Sue, it killed them. Unarmed spectators, and it just kept on going." He crossed the floor and fell into a chair. Leaning back, he stared at the roof with unblinking eyes. "I can still here them, in my head," he whispered. "I can still here them screaming."

Susan stood beside her husband and wrapped her arms around him. 'Darling, at least you survived. At least you manage to come back to Michael and I.' Suddenly, Charles winced. Susan pulled away as Charles grabbed at his left side. As the pain subsided, he lifted the left side of his shirt, revealing the mass of plaster. He grimaced. 'She took a piece out of me too.'

Susan frowned. Then, she noticed the look in her husbands' eyes. This was a man that needed to consider his own demons. She walked to the stairs, and then turned. 'Charles.' He turned to her. 'It wasn't your fault. No-one could have predicted that.'

Charles smiled softly. ' We almost made it too, before…' His voice trailed off and the blank stare retuned. Susan climbed the stairs and disappeared. Charles stood and staggered to the couch, before collapsing onto it. He stared into the fireplace for several minutes.

'Dad?'

Charles looked around and spotted the small boy standing at the top of the stairs. Dressed in pyjamas festooned with colourful tugboats, the five year-old had the same crazy hair as his father. Charles smiled. 'Heya champ. Come here.' The little boy walked carefully down the stairs, then raced across the lounge and leapt onto the couch. Charles reached over and ruffled his son's hair. 'How was school?'

Michael Merkenson frowned in only the way a small child can. 'School is hard. They don't let you build stuff all the time. We have to learn maths and stuff.'

Charles laughed. 'Maths is important son. You need it to become smarter.' His laughter died away. He moved closer to the young boy. 'Michael, look at me.' Michael gazed up at his father. 'Throughout your life, people will tell you that there are thing you cannot do, for whatever reason.' He leaned down so he was face-to-face with the boy. 'These people are wrong. Your life is what you make it. The one who never races, never wins. OK?'

'Yes Dad,' Michael smiled.

'Good boy.' Father and son hugged. 'Now, go to bed. You need all the sleep you can to deal with those maths tomorrow.' Michael hugged his father again, and then ran up the stairs and away. Charles watched him go. 'Go get 'em son,' he whispered to himself. He sat there for a moment, in the firelight. Then, he stood and walked over to the table. Collecting his car keys, but leaving the hat and coat behind, Charles Merkenson opened the door and stepped out into the darkness.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Fifteen Years Later

The river slowly meandered through the countryside. Above it, the sun had been above the horizon for less than an hour, so the day was still cold. The willows on the bank dipped their branches into the cool water, their shadows waving slowly. The ducks bobbed on the water; some occasionally diving for fish, the others quacking softly to one another. The silence was audible.

With a roar, the silence was shattered. The water was carved aside as a form rocketed past. The ducks took flight, winging away from the speeding invader. Through the spray kicked up, the intruder charged onwards, alternately leaping from shadow to sunlight as it blazed upstream. Finally, it reached the lake at the river top and scorched into the open space, finally revealing for what it was. A boat; long, sleek and going like a bat out of hell. Seven metres long, the vessel looked like a miniature destroyer, only lower, sleeker, meaner. Out across the lake it flew, heading towards a set of five targets arrayed in a row. As it approached, a cannon whirred to life on its forward deck, firing five shots in rapid succession. Four of the targets had their centres clean out, while the fifth lost its top left corner. The boat then slammed into a hard turn to port, spinning about in a crash-turn around the fifth target as the cannon hammered again, blasting the fifth target to small drifting bits of plywood. The boat then leapt away, fishtailing briefly before stabilising up and lining up on a pole floating end-up in the water. Twin blades emerged from the stern of the vessel, aligning outwards at a 45-degree angle from the hull. With a blur of motion, the boat screamed by the pole. Seconds later, the pole tumbled into the water, sliced in half. The blades and cannon retracted, and the boat swept about in a long, sweeping starboard turn towards two figures standing by the lakeside. As it approached, the engine cut out, and the boat drifted in to shore, running aground just beneath the two figures.

Michael Merckenson set down the controller and turned to the person beside him. 'She missed the fifth target. Again.'

The second figure leapt onto the boat, clambered towards the bow and opened a panel. 'It's gotta be the TMA software again,' Jake Delsio called back. 'It was buggy as hell back home. I thought that I'd ironed them all out. I'll look over the software on the plane. Once I find the glitch, we'll be punching 10/10.'

Michael smiled. 'You said that back when I was offered a good price for the Patriot chips. But you said, "Don't buy it Mike. I can program better software in my sleep'." His smile broadened. 'Come to think of it, you actually said the 10/10 thing then too.'

Jake sent a glare in Michaels' general direction. "Ahhhh. Why do I even bother working with you on this thing anyway?"

"Because this thing is our ticket to greatness." Michael gestured to the boat. "With this, we will take the Naval Royale competition by storm." His expression changed to sadness. "This was my father's world. And now, it's mine too."

Jake shut the hatch, jumped back onto the bank and patted his friend on the shoulder. "I'm sure that he'd be stoked to see his son following in his footsteps." He looked over his shoulder at the boat behind him. "Or is it in his wake?" Michael turned his head towards his friend and grinned. Then, with an almighty shove, he sent Jake flying into the water. Jack surfaced, spluttering and cursing up a storm. Michael laughed, and then gestured out over the lake. "Jake Delsio, Michael Merckenson, and the _Sea Viper_. Names that will echo throughout the realm of this competition, for all time."


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Miami, Florida

A city built among the everglades, Miami is an example of the lighter side of the United States. With its sun-soaked beaches, bustling metropolitan area and smiling people, this was indeed a city where all could feel welcome.

The taxi pulled up to one of the many hotels in Miami. Michael got out and retrieved their bags from the trunk of the car, while Jake paid for the trip. As the taxi moved off, the duo took their bags in tow and entered the polished hotel lobby. At the front desk, a receptionist sat typing on the computer in front of her. As Michael and Jake approached, she looked up and smiled. "Welcome to the Poseidon Hotel sirs. Can I be of any assistance?"

Jake immediately stepped up. "You most certainly can. Can you tell me of any good restaurants in the area, preferably one that you would be able to accompany me to?"

Tutting softly, Michael pulled Jake away from the receptionist and smiled. "Hi. We're here for the Naval Royale competition. Can you tell us where to register?"

The receptionist nodded. "Certainly sir." She typed on her computer for a few seconds, then looked up. "The registration in on the forth floor in the Main Ballroom. Signs will point the way."

"Cheers," Michael said, turning for the elevators. As he did so, he saw, in the corner of his eye, the blushing receptionist slipping Jake a card with what looked like a nine-digit phone number written on it. Chuckling, Michael reached the elevator and pressed the button for the forth floor.

As the lift doors opened, Michael spotted a banner stretched across the entranceway of the ballroom. 'WELCOME TO NAVAL ROYALE 2010', the banner proclaimed in big block letters. Michael just stood there for a second, looking at the banner. Then he took a deep breath. "OK Dad. Here we go," he whispered. Then, he stepped across the threshold and into the ballroom. The first thing he noticed was the mass of people that wandered about the floor. He had to move swiftly to avoid being swamped. Press officials stalked the floor, looking for good sound bites. Teams mingled with one another, discussing chances. Along the nearest wall, lines of schoolchildren awaited autographs from their favourite drivers. One of the lines doubled back several times. Michael moved closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of all the attention. Finally, he spotted it. A tall figure, with slicked back hair and a jacket with the logos of Coca-Cola, Microsoft and Taco Bell on its sleeves sat at the table, signing posters. Michael had to move aside as a group of giggling schoolgirls charged past him, clutching their posters to their chests. "Kurt Rickardson." Michael looked to his left and saw Jake beside him. "Championship winner for the past four years," Jake continued, "with never a placing below third. The man's a legend."

'I'll say," said another voice. Michael looked right and saw an older man standing nearby. "He drives like he's made of ice; nothing can shake him. That's why they call him Frosty." He smiled and extended his hand. "Sorry lads, introductions. I'm Carlos McHarris. Crew chief for Team Decimator."

Michael and Jake shook his hand. "Team Decimator?" Jake said. "You guys run the _Oceanic Challenger_, right?"

McHarris grinned. "That's us. Going right for the top this season. I've got a feeling about this one." He pulled out a breath mint and popped one into his mouth. "What about you lads? Which team you racing with?"

"We're Team SeaMasters, with the _Sea Viper_."

McHarris stopped grinning. "SeaMasters? That team hasn't been in the competition since for over a decade. Ever since the wreck of '95." He looked closer at Michael. "Say, you're Cobra Merkenson's kid, aren't you?"

Michael nodded slowly. "Yeah. Charles Merkenson was my father."

McHarris nodded in return, and extended his hand again. This time, there was more power behind the handshake. "Bloody fantastic to see you here. Your dad was one hell of a driver. We were all stunned to hear about his death."

"Thanks. He told me all about this sport. Hell, it's like I've been here for my entire life."

McHarris smiled. "Once you're in, you're hooked." He looked at his watch. "Woah, gotta dash. We've got some time booked at the test lake. See you guys around."

"Yeah, see you." Michael said as the man hurried off. He turned to Jake. "I knew Dad was into this competition, but not to that extent."

"Sports remember their heroes," Jake said, "and your dad was a hero in this game." He slapped his friend in the shoulder. "Come on. Let's sign up. I've got a dinner to get to."

Several hours later, Michael sat in his hotel room in front of his laptop. On it, diagrams of the tracks spun at every angle, while digits ran over a mathematical model of the _Sea Viper_. He yawned deeply and drank from a mug of coffee set beside him. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Michael got up and crossed the room. "Don't tell me you forgot the key to your room Jake," he called as he unlocked the door and opened it. The bright light outside slammed into him, and he threw up his hands to shield his eyes. As he did so, he heard a voice. "This is Melanie Griffith for ICB News, with Mr Michael Merkenson of Team SeaMasters. Mr Merkenson, how does it feel to be participating in the sport that resulted in the disgrace of your father fifteen years ago?"

When his eyes had adjusted to the light, Michael glared at the reporter before him. He'd heard of Melanie Griffith, the reporter that had made a habit of going to great lengths to get a story. At any other time, he wouldn't have minded her showing up at his hotel room. But this was not the time or topic. "No comment," he snarled, before slamming the door and storming back to his laptop. The knocking continued, as Melanie shouted questions through the door. "Mr Merkenson, what do you think of allegations that you are only here because the committee in charge of the Naval Royale feels a sense of pity because of your father?" The knocking continued. "Mr Merkenson? Mr Merkenson!" And still, the knocking went on. Finally, Michael swore and strode to the door. He threw it open. "Right. I am here because I want to race. Nothing more, nothing less. I passed the qualification test just like everyone else in the competition. Yes, I am looking forward to the competition. Yes, I do have a race to prepare for. Now if you'll excuse me…" He slammed the door. Outside, Melanie huffed. "God. Here I am, ready to interview, and he closes the bloody door. Waste of my bloody time. Come on Stan." With that, she and her cameraman headed off down the corridor.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The sun was shining in a cloudless sky. Wind was at nine knots out of the southwest. All in all, perfect weather for the first event of the Naval Royale.

All about the 3-mile track, spectators began to arrive, even in the hours of darkness. The optimal positions at the front went first. Then, the backlog began to fill as more and more fans began to arrive. Families with blankets, picnic baskets and young children running about like idiots. Die-hard fans with jackets festooned with patches denoting drivers throughout the history of the sport and radios plugged into their ears. All kinds showed up. In the middle of the track, corporate boxes filled with executives, waiting for the race to start. The first race of any sport draws major crowds, and the Naval Royale was no exception.

Down in the pits tunnel, Michael and Jake went over the _Sea Viper_, checking for any last-minute glitches in the system. As they did, an official approached them. "Name?" Michael stood and faced him. He'd practiced this conversation for years. Now was time to do it for real. "Team SeaMasters. Vessel _Sea Viper_."

The official nodded and made a note on his PDA. "Powerplant?"

"Diesel direct-drive."

"Armament?"

Michael ran through the list of the small arsenal on board. The official made a series of notes. "You are aware that this race is weapons-tight, and that any unsanctioned usage of your onboard weapons will result in penalty?"

"Yes, I am aware."

"Very good. That's all in order. Sign here please." Michael pressed his thumb up against the PDA. "Thank you sir. Good luck."

Michael nodded. "Thank you." He turned to Jake. "Ready?"

"Ready to rock," Jake replied cheerfully. "All systems checked out. Let's lock this thing down." As he said it, he gestured towards a large lever in the corner of the booth. Both took a hold of the lever. "On three," Michael said. "One…two…three!" Both pulled down on the lever. Twin shackles clamped into place, holding the bow and stern. Michael grinned. "Right. I'd better get up to the drivers tower. I'll see you after the race." He turned for the door.

"Yo, Michael?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

Jake gave him a thumbs-up. "Give 'em hell."

Michael returned the gesture. "Always do pal. Always do."

The sun was high in the sky as the double klaxons squawked over the everglades. All eyes turned towards the central tower, in the middle of the track. Atop the tower, a figure appeared. Some kind of famous American singer, who broke into the national anthem. All around the track, all kinds put their hands over their hearts and sang along. As the final notes drifted away, another figure took the podium. "Ladies and gentlemen," the figure boomed. "I, Walter Handock, chairman of the Naval Royale Competition, welcome you to Naval Royale 2008!" The cheers rang out. Handock smiled, and began. "For those of you unfamiliar with the Naval Royale, let me explain. At the start of every season, we have our first feature race. Then, based on their results, the field is divided into groups. Each of these groups then fight one another, one on one, until there is one winner, the champion!" The crowd roared their approval.

Down in the pits, an official looked at his watch. He nodded, then turned to the pit crews. "Five minutes to launch. Tools down and evacuate!" All the crews stopped working on their vessels, loaded up their tool carts and headed out of the blast door. On his way out, Jake saw Carlos McHarris give him a thumbs up and a nod. Jake returned in kind, and headed out of the tunnel. Once he had verified that all teams were clear, the official hit a button and the door closed behind him. As a result, there was no one to see a figure creep out of the shadows. Armed with protective gloves and a spray-can with a long nozzle, the figure made his way between five of the boats lined up in their shackles, inserting the nozzle into the front of each. When the work was done, the figure donned scuba gear, and dived into the water behind the _Oceanic Challenger_.

Up in the control tower, Michael took a deep breath and opened his laptop. On it, a map of the course was displayed, complete with distances of each leg, speed readout, and various other telemetry from the _Sea Viper_. He breathed out again and took up his controller and positioned himself in front of a plasma screen displaying a video image from a bow-mounted camera on the vessel. He looked left at the other drivers. Two booths down, Kurt Rickardson cracked his knuckles in preparation. Then, the announcement blared over the speakers. "Drivers. On your marks!

Down in the pits, each boat was elevated on its shackles. A hissing sound emitted from the ground beneath each boat. For the shackles were each mounted on a fuel-air explosion catapult for initial boost. Welcome to Naval Royale.

"Set!"

Engines roared to life. Each vessel trembled under the torque. Then…

"Go!"

Each boat was shoved forwards as the catapults engaged. They rocketed through the launch tunnels, screaming for the light. Then, the shackles released. The boats sailed through the air and splashed into the water. Race on.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

With a roar, the _Sea Viper_ leapt forward as its propellers dug into the water. Within seconds, the boat was on plane and tearing across the surface to the left of the main pack. Out ahead, the _Hyrda_, driven by Rickardson, was out to an early lead. Close behind were the vessels _Poseidon's Vengeance_, _HyperSea_ and _Oceanic Challenger_. The four vessels jockeyed for position, each trying to find a clear patch of water to dig into to obtain the advantage. Suddenly, _HyperSea_ faltered and arced to port. Its driver throttled back, but the speeding vessel caught the wake coming off _Oceanic Challenger_ and flipped over. At 40 knots, the water may as well have been concrete. The superstructure tore away and the hull dug into the water, bobbing about as the rest of the pack swerved to avoid it.

In the control tower, the driver of _HyperSea_ swore and threw his controller to the ground as his screen flicked out. No one answered him, as the rest of the racers tried to improve their standings. A gigantic clump of boats, the pack blazed down the opening straight. The spectators cheered as the combined wakes of the vessels sent waves sloshing over the banks of the river. Tensions continued to build as the race approached its first corner; a particularly easy sweeping turn to starboard. The pack approached the corner and swept around it. All except one, which continued in a straight line into the barrier wall, scraping along before rolling onto its side and sinking beneath the water. The rest of the pack then swept onto the straight. One by one, each boat swept up to full speed. Speedometers shot upwards to 50 knots before turbo was disengaged so that the vessels could negotiate a 90-degree left turn before entering the first of two tunnels. It was here that things went wrong. Four of the vessels in the pack shot away to the side, slamming into the wall and detonating in balls of fire.

Michael looked up in shock as his plasma screen flickered, then flashed to blue. At the same time, four cries of horror emitted from the four drivers whose boats had just been eliminated. Michael instantly turned to his laptop, and the map of the track upon it. Approaching the corner on the screen was a blip, with the speedometer above it. Michael grinned slightly. "Three…two…one…now." As he said that, he pulled back on the throttle and flicked the control stick hard left, just for a second. Out on the track, _Sea Viper_ kicked around in a hard left turn, skimming around the corner and into the tunnel. Michael counted again, this time from fifteen. When he reached zero, he slowly slid the stick right. _Sea Viper_ responded with a graceful right turn, moving just off the centreline of the track. Locked in concentration, Michael didn't notice the four drivers whose boats had hit the wall gather behind him, watching in stunned silence as he used the telemetry to guide his vessel around the course.

Out in front, the _Hydra_ had built up a decent lead. Immediately behind it was another boat, the _Neptune's Revenge_, driven by a driver by the name of Steven Karandos. At that moment, Karandos had throttled down to 70 and was sipping from an iced coffee on the console in front of him. "No use burning out the engine this early in the season," he said to the groupie beside him. The girl giggled. Karandos smirked, just as a burst of spray blazed past his boat. Swearing loudly, he manoeuvred to bring the vessel that had just overtaken into view. The _Sea Viper_, now in hot pursuit of the _Hydra_. Karandos shoved the throttles forward with a snarl. "Not today." He closed the gap as the two vessels approached the second tunnel. This was the difficult one, with a left hairpin and chicane before straightening out into the final straight. Karandos accelerated hard into the tunnel, sweeping past the decelerating _Sea Viper_. "Watch and learn kid," he muttered as he went wide, swinging in around the hairpin and away.

And then it happened.

Two hatches flicked open on the rear deck of the _Sea _Viper, and the vessel suddenly spourted _a pair of rocket boosters_. With a roar, the boosters ignited, and the vessel arrowed in towards the inner corner. Then, with a whine of hydraulics, a fin extended from the left flank and dug into the water. The _Sea Viper_ screeched into the turn, rockets still blazing, before the fin retracted and she leapt down the final straight like a rocket-propelled bullet. The acceleration was so fast that Michael's telemetry link was momentarily disrupted. An unguided missile, the _Sea Viper_ scorched across the water, bounced off _Poseidon's Revenge_ and overtook _Hydra_, before blitzing across the finish line to the roars of the crowd. By this point, Michael had regained control and deployed brake fins to stop the vessel. The drivers behind him cheered like maniacs, stunned by the move. Michael, for his part, shut down the laptop and turned off the controller, before turning to accept the handshakes and congratulations. Then, with the four drivers flanking him, he left the tower to greet the crowd cheering for his first Naval Royale win.

Watching from a raised balcony, Walter Handock looked down at the crowd of fans surrounding Michael as he raised his controller over his head. He spoke softly. "I thought you were going to take care of this little problem."

The figure in the shadows behind him spoke in a cold, dark voice. "Nonetheless, this was only the first race. We still have the rest of the series to go."

Handock sighed. "This doesn't seem right. He's a good kid."

"Now now Mr Handock," the figure replied. "Remember our arrangement. You swore an oath, just like the rest of us."

Handock stared down at the crowd. "I remember." He watched as Michael was lifted onto the shoulders of the crowd. "The son must share the fate of the father. At all costs."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

As night fell over the city of Miami, the after-party swept into full swing. In various bars around the city, the teams that had raced each other during the day now drank, laughed, danced and generally partied together. For it is a known fact that those who work hard tend to party hard.

Michael sat in a bar by the waterfront, sipping slowly from a bourbon and coke. Before him, other bar patrons sambaed and tangoed the night away. But Michael just sat there, watching. Eventually, Jake made his way over to him. "So, good win today?"

Michael just stared off into the distance. "Not bad. Except for the whole failure of vision thing. That was not helpful."

"Meh," Jake shrugged. "At least you get the points." He slapped his friend on the back. "C'mon. Get into the festivities." And with that Jake disappeared into the crowd. Michael stayed by the bar, sipping at his drink some more. It was then that a dark figure stepped in front of him. "What the hell Merkenson?"

Michael looked up to see Steven Karandos standing before him, a look of fury upon his face. "What are you talking about?"

Karandos was furious. "That collision on the final straight. Don't tell me that wasn't intentional, because I know that it wasn't.'

Michael sighed. "Yeah, sorry about that, but my transmitter lost contact when we went to full turbo. Tell you what, Jake and I'll come over and help with any repairs needed, ok?"

Karandos's response was a swift right hook that knocked Michael sprawling onto the floor. "This is my championship, and nothing is taking that away from…" He was cut off as Michael flicked his legs out from under him. Karandos fell to the floor and Michael got to his feet and entered a boxers stance. Karandos roared and charged, tackling Michael and slamming him into the bar. The crowd screamed and ran. One of Karandos's crewmen tried to grab a stranglehold on Michaels neck, but was quickly brought down by a long range beer bottle thrown by Jake. Michael ducked under one punch, drove his knee into Karandos' solar plexus before swinging around with a left roundhouse punch. Karandos deflated like a balloon. Michael stepped over the unconscious form, "On second thoughts, fix it yourself," before dashing out the door.

Outside, people ran from the bar-fight as sirens sounded in the distance. Michael looked around, but saw no sign of Jake and his date. He sprinted into an alleyway as the Miami PD showed up. As he proceeded down the alley, headlights suddenly slammed into life ahead of him. Michael immediately rolled right, then came to his feet in a combat stance. He stood ready as the vehicle slid to a halt beside him. It was a Dodge Viper, with the passenger window wound down. "Need a lift?" asked the driver.

"Yeah, would be nice." Michael opened the door and got in. The Viper drove down the rest of the alleyway, before turning and speeding away from the bar. It then found an on-ramp and got onto the interstate highway, heading south.

Michael and the driver of the Viper drove in silence for several minutes. Then Michael spoke up. "Cheers for that. Not sure I'd have gotten clear without you."

Kurt Rickardson nodded. "You created quite a scene in there. Steven isn't the most social person in the world, and that's probably not going to change anytime soon." They drove in silence for another few miles. Then Rickardson spoke again. "I was a big fan of your father. It probably doesn't mean much, but I was sorry to hear about his death."

Now it was Michael's turn to nod. "Thanks." He was silent for a second. "They reckoned it was a suicide. The police said there were no tyre marks leading up to the corner. He just went straight through the barrier and over."

Silence again. Kurt continued to drive. As they got off the Interstate he spoke again. "I was there, at the crash of '93." Michael turned and looked at the champion driver. "I was a apprentice back then, with the Naxos Corporation and the _Naxos Challenger_. Your father had his vessel on perimeter patrol, ready to head off any boat that headed for the crowd. All was well until one boat initiated boost and headed for the crowd. He reacted incredibly fast, but was unable to hook on to the other boat. So he drove his vessel into the rogue. Both exploded, and the wreckage flew into the crowd." Silence. "The boats had been doing 120 easy when they hit. It was carnage. But your father went straight in and tried to save all that he could."

Michael nodded. "I remember the last time I saw him. It was the day that the Committee decided to assign him all blame."

"Yes, I remember that." They drove in silence until they arrived at the hotel. Kurt pulled up to the lobby and Michael got out. "Cheers for the lift." He turned and walked towards the doors.

"Michael." He turned and faced the idling Viper. Kurt met his gaze. "Did they ever tell you whose boat it was that went out of control?" Michael shook his head. "It was Walter Handock."

Michael was stunned. "The chairman of the NRC?"

Kurt made no move. "Good luck tomorrow." Then he wound up his window and drove away into the night.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The day dawned to another cloudless sky. Day Two was the first serious day of competition. The stands around the track had been removed. Now, the action moved to the lakes and rivers of the region. These would now become the battlefields for the Naval Royale.

Back at the Naval Royale Village, Michael took a sip from the can of Diet Coke on the workbench beside him. "So that's why we lost the visual link."

Jake, standing a few metres down the bench, gestured the bow camera. "This is heavy Mike. The wires have all detached from the circuitry, and all the solder has melted. I thought it was caused by a heat distribution problem, so I ran the thing under a microscope to see how much damage had been done to the components, and I found this." He picked up a remote and switched on the LCD screen above the bench. On it was an image of the electronics, magnified fifty times. There were scorch marks across the image, as well as small clumps of material. Michael's eyes instantly narrowed. "What are those…"

"Clumps? Yeah, I noticed them, and took a sample, and you'll never guess what I found." Michael raised his eyebrows. "Traces of hydrofluoric acid. Real faint, but enough to melt the solder away."

Michael frowned deeply. "Sabotage?"

"Only one way to find out." There was a buzz from the door. Jake opened the door and allowed the figure outside to enter. "Carlos, welcome."

"Hey lads." Carlos said. "Wish my visit was under happier circumstances." He took a bag off his shoulder. Withdrawing a manila folder, he slapped it down on the table beside the camera. "We found the same thing in the wreckage of the other boats. All with traces of acid. Whoever did this is into some serious stuff."

Jake and Michael flicked through the photos. "So who has the capability to do this?"

A dark cloud shrouded Carlos's face. "There have been rumblings, since the beginning of the competition, of an outside influence." Michael and Jake brought over some stools and the three sat down. Carlos leaned against the bench, picked up another can of Coke and continued. "They call them the Company. Whenever there is an unexplained malfunction, or a favoured team is eliminated, some say that the Company is involved. They're the stuff of rumour, and no-one has been able to prove their existence, but the rumours still live on."

Michael took another swig of Diet Coke. "So does this meet the operating pattern for this Company group?"

Carlos frowned. "If we hadn't caught onto it with the camera from the _Sea Viper_, we'd have never known. The other four boats affected were too badly damaged. As it is, we can't use the photos for evidence; the damage is too severe."

Jake stood up. "Well, we'll have to find another way." He turned to Michael. "On another note, we've gotta get ready. We're on in two hours.'

Michael nodded. "Right. Let's get to it."

Three hours later, the _Sea Viper_ was nosing its way through the weeds of the Everglades. The branches overhead created a tiger-striping colour scheme across the hull. For a moment, the shadows flickered over a deep hole in the side of the vessel; an impact sustained from the battle against the foe. The boat shut down its motors; waiting.

Back in the control trailer, Michael was still sipping from his drink. As he did so, his eyes flicked from display to display in front of him. Each screen was configured to show the view from each direction; front, side, even behind. Some displays had cross-hairs in the centre. He sighed. "How're we looking ammo-wise?"

Jake was seated on the other side of the trailer, with his own displays. "You're down to 57 on the guns, four mines, two smoke pots and three seconds worth of fuel for the boosters." He glanced at another screen. "To make things even better, the starboard mine-layer is offline and the port booster is showing an orange light. I can't guarantee that it'll actually light off when you press the button."

"Well whoop-dee-doo," Michael replied sarcastically, "I think we've got this one in the bag then." His eyes suddenly darted to the starboard-bow screen, and the flicker of movement that had just appeared there. His hands leapt for the controls before him and he squeezed the trigger. Out on the marsh, the twin machine-guns mounted in the bow of the _Sea Viper_ slammed to life. Tracer rounds tore into the bushes. Out of the rushes, sparks pinging off its armour, emerged the competitor that _Sea Viper_ was up against; the _Charybdis_ of Team Odyssey. A bow-mounted auto-cannon roared to life upon its bow, firing round after round at the _Sea Viper_s concealed location. Then both boats tore away upstream.

Michael flicked the steering left and right, trying to get the killing shot on the fleeing _Charybdis_. But the opposing vessel leapt across the water like a possessed dolphin, skimming across the surface at 40 knots. The reeds of the everglades whisked past as the vessels shot along with blazing speed. Left, right, right, left, left, almost faster than humanly possible, the combatants rocketed onwards. Then, on a straight, it happened. A hatch on the rear of _Charybdis_ cycled open, allowing four small objects to slide off the rear of the boat into the water. Jake started to yell a warning "Depth char…", but Michael was already responding. The _Sea Viper_ accelerated, crossing the stretch of water mere seconds before it blew into foam as the explosive charges detonated. But the saving manoeuvre presented a new problem. The boost sent the _Sea Viper_ past _Charybdis_. Not the hunter was the hunted, as _Charybdis_ began firing without mercy.

Down in the press area, Melanie Griffith munched on a sandwich. Beside her, her cameraman Stan devoured a mince pie. On the LCD screen in front of them, various battles played themselves out on various channels. Melanie grinned as one vessel blasted its way through another. Stan on the other hand, was edgy. "Come on Mel, go back to the _Charybdis_ fight. I've got twenty bucks riding on that match."

Melanie's smile turned to a scowl. "Goddamnit, if I switch back, will you stop complaining?" She reached forward and switched channels. The pair then watched as the final minute of the battle played out.

_Sea Viper_ punched its way across the waves, finally arriving at a large lake. As it reached the middle of the lake however, Michael did something unexpected. He _cut power to the motors_, allowing the vessel to coast to a halt. Jake glanced across in confusion. "You better know what you're doing buddy."

"I often do," came the taut reply, as the _Charybdis_ swept into view on the rear camera. Both members of Team SeaMasters watched as the onrushing vessel extended two rams from its bow and ignited its booster motors. Michael sat, motionless as his foe came closer and closer. Suddenly, he spoke. "Whipcrack." Jake instantly flicked a switch on his console, the covered switch marked with one word, Blades. As the _Charybdis _was about to crash through the stationary _Sea Viper_, Michael activated the twin boosters. The starboard booster erupted into a dagger of flame, but the port stayed dormant, unresponding.

But Michael had expected this.

The _Sea Viper_ spun on the spot, completing a full 360-degree rotation in less than a second. The _Charybdis _screamed past, missing its target by three centimetres. As the stern of _Sea Viper_ swung around, the deployed blades slashed into the passing enemy. Yet _Charybdis_ sailed on, for a few seconds. Then, as it attempted to turn to re-engage, the entire top half of the vessel _peeled off_, vanishing into the water with a splash. The effectively decapitated _Charybdis_ coasted to a halt, defeated.

In the command booth, Michael slumped back in his seat. Jake clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice move man, but how did you know that the other booster wouldn't ignite?"

Michael sat silent for a moment. Then, he drained the can of Coke before crumpling it and lobbing it towards the rubbish bin. It clattered off the rim and fell to the floor. "I didn't."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Two hours after the battle concluded, Michael stepped into the conference room into a storm of camera flashes. Before him, the press corp began shouting questions. The ruckus was of such a degree, that Michael could only make out a few of the questions as he strode over to the microphone-covered table.

"How long did you spend on your design?"

"What were you thinking when you were midway through the final move?"

"Can you give us your view on the field as it stands?"

Michael ignored them all. His eyes were focussed on the man already sitting at the table. He approached and sat down beside him. "That was a very good match," he muttered. "Those depth charges were especially nasty."

The man turned with a twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, I thought I'd throw you a curve, see how you handled it. Congratulations."

Michael extended his hand, and the two shook. Then they both turned to face the oncoming questions.

"Mr Merkenson, Charles Crossan for ESPN. How did you come up with that killing stroke?"

Michael smiled. "I merely recalled the childhood game of 'Crack The Whip'. Then all it took was to work with what was at hand."

Another reporter came to her feet, addressing her question to the defeated. "Mr Mabius, what do you think of Mr Merkenson as an opponent?"

"I believe that Michael has the skill, ability and the ingenuity to go far in this sport." He turned and looked Michael in the eye. "Apparently, it runs in the family." Michael nodded accepting the compliment. He turned sharply at the next question.

"Mr Merkenson, Melanie Griffith for ICB News. This being your first Naval Royale, what are your views on the competition?"

Michael sat still for a moment as the cameras whirred. "It's everything that I expected," he said curtly.

"And do you feel any strong links to your father by competing, and that you are competing to restore him to the place he once held in this competition?"

The room was silent for a moment. Then Michael spoke again. "This is a sport that has special significance to me. As you know, my father was deeply involved within it. So it is obvious that there is a link. But there is no vendetta against those who brought his downfall. That is the past. I am here to compete, not avenge. That is the way it is, and should be."

There was a moment of silence. Then, the sound of one man clapping echoed through the room. To Michaels' left, Mabius clapped his hands together. Then, more and more, the applause built. Melanie sat down as Michael met her gaze. He winked at the reporter that he had brought down. And as she sat in her chair, Melanie could not resist joining the applauding press.

Outside the conference room, Melanie gathered up her notes and prepared to return to the press accommodation. Stan had already left, still fuming over losing his bet. As she transferred her files to her briefcase, a figure approached. "I'm sorry I had to do that."

Melanie looked up to see Michael, smiling slightly, standing before her. "No no, it's fine. I was asking for it." She closed her case. "I must apologise for the stunt with the interview a few days ago. I was wrong; as you said, you're not on a vendetta or trying for publicity."

Michael nodded. "Well, there's only one way to forgive you for that." Melanie looked confused. "Dinner, in Chicago."

Melanie laughed. "God, is that the way you do things?" She smiled at the gentleman before her. "Alright, Chicago it is. I'll see you there." With that, she sauntered past Michael and out the door. Michael watched her go.

"Excuse me, Mr Merkenson?"

Michael turned. Behind him, a hotel clerk stood, holding an envelope. "This arrived for you this morning sir. Under the instruction that it be handed to you in person."

"Thanks," Michael said, curious. He took the envelope, signed for it, and made his way back to his room. There, he opened the envelope and removed the letter within. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he read it.

_Mr Merkenson_

_Who I am is not important is not important at this time, but I served in the Navy with your father during the Cold War. We were on the same ship, and I knew him well._

_As you are aware, the events of the first race this season were not an accident. An agent of The Company sabotaged the boats that were destroyed, including your own vessel. We have been watching from afar, and believe that this is the year in which The Company will make its final move. We don't know when or where, but we are sure it will happen._

_In the meantime, keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary._

Best of luck in Chicago 

There was no signature, no letterhead. Michael read through the letter several more times, then set it on the desk. Then, he reached for the phone and dialled a number. "Jake, get in here. We have things to discuss."


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Chicago, the shipping capital on the Great Lakes, and the location of the next few rounds of the Naval Royale.

Michael stood in the stands, watching as the semi-final of the Naval Royale Submarine Division was played out in the midst of Lake Superior. Around him, spectators watched on their view-screens as the two combatants battled beneath the waves. The battles had gone for several hours by this point, and it was starting to get dark. Then, suddenly, abruptly, a column of water blasted into the air. The crowd cheered as the victor surfaced and its controller stepped out onto the control tower balcony and raised his hands in triumph. Michael also joined in the applause, then joined the stream of civilians heading back for their cars.

"Michael!"

Michael looked around, and spotted her. Melanie Griffith was approaching, dressed in a shear green dress. Michael grinned. "Well well, you actually showed up. I'm impressed."

Melanie laughed. "Oh please, you didn't seriously think that I wouldn't show, did you?"

Michael waggled his eyebrows. Melanie growled and smacked him on the shoulder. Michael feigned injury, staggering about before standing again. "Right, shall we go then?" He gestured towards the waiting taxi.

An hour later, the pair dined in one of Chicago's top seafood restaurants. The laughter continued as the two made their way through their meals. At one point, Melanie looked up from her salmon. "So, Michael, what's the real story behind your entry to the Naval Royale? Strictly off the record."

Michael put down his cutlery and looked across the table at her. "Well, you know about the incident in the 1993 competition with my father. This is simply a continuation of that." His eyes met hers. "This is simply a continuation of my father's work in this competition, and in R/C combat technology."

Melanie nodded as she took a sip of her wine. "I can understand that. And I must say that it is great to see the continuation of his legacy in your efforts."

Michael smiled. "Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall return in a moment." With that, he stood up and made his way to the bathroom at the back of the restaurant. Melanie watched him go, then returned thoughtfully to her salmon.

Michael exited the cubicle, and made his way to the wash-basin in the bathroom. After applying soap to his hands, he placed them under the running water. When he looked up however, he saw that he had company.

"Mr Merkenson, we need to talk."

Michael turned to face the figure behind him. "Mr Handock. What can I do for you?"

Walter Handock looked frightened. "We have a serious problem. The Company, they're real and they're making a move.'

Michael nodded. "I suspected that. We found sabotage in some of the boats. What do you know?"

Handock lowered his eyes. "I've been working for them for the past few years. The Company is made up of defence contractors who are in charge of the advances in model r/c warfare. The winner of each competition has always used the technology provided by these corporations. As such, the proven track record of these systems makes them more inviting to the defence community."

Outside in the restaurant, Melanie looked at her watch and took another sip of wine. At the same time, a man wearing a tuxedo several tables down also glanced at his watch, stood up and made his way to the bathroom.

Michael leaned up against the counter. "So, what is their plan for this year?"

Handock frowned. "I'm not sure. I haven't been cleared for that. But I know that it's going to be big and it'll happen during the finals…"

The door swung open, and the tuxedo-wearing man walked through. His eyes flicked across the scene in front of him as Handock spun around in shock. The man didn't hesitate. Reaching down to his belt, he drew a knife and threw it at the chairman of the Naval Royale. The knife embedded itself in Handock's chest, and he went down like a bag of cement. The assassin then drew another knife and took aim at Michael. But Michael was already moving. Dodging right, he closed the distance between them and chopped his hand down on the assassins forearm. The assassin's grip loosened and the knife began to fall, just as Michael kicked it upwards, sending the knife straight into the ceiling, embedding itself in the plaster. The assassin stepped back, then entered a karate stance, throwing his jacket to the floor. Michael also stepped back and entered a similar pose. Then, the two engaged.

The assassin feigned a low blow, then swung his open palm at Michael's neck. Michael intercepted the blow and grabbed the assassin by the arm and threw him into the wall-mounted mirror, shattering it. The assassin, wounded by the glass, got to his feet and charged at Michael, picking him up and slamming him against the wall. Michael rebounded off the wall and fell to the floor. The assassin wrapped his hands around Michaels' neck and began to strangle him. Michael tried to pull the hands off his throat, but the assassin had an iron grip. Finally, Michael jammed his knee up into the assassins' groin. The assassin yelped in pain and released Michael, who flipped himself upwards before sending a kick straight into his assailant's ribs. The assassin grimaced and grabbed Michael's foot, spinning him off his feet. But Michael used the manoeuvre to jam his elbow into the assassins' gut. The assassin doubled over as Michael dragged to his feet and slammed him against the wall. "Who are you working for?" he roared.

The assassin laughed. "Take a wild guess." Then, in a swift movement, he withdrew a capsule from his pocket, jammed it into his mouth and bit down on it. Seconds later, his eyes rolled back in his head as life left him. Michael released him, and the body flopped to the floor.

"Michael…"

Michael turned, shocked as Walter Handock struggled to sit up. He dashed over and slid to a halt beside the fatally wounded CEO. "Don't try anything. We'll get the paramedics."

Handock chuckled, coughing up blood. "No use, I'm done." His expression turned serious. "The files. On my computer. Password is Calypso." His eyes began to close.

"Just hang on," Michael snarled.

Handock's eyes opened. "Michael, the crash of '93. My fault. My fault entirely. Please…forgive me. I didn't mean for all those people…" His voice trailed off as the spark of life left his eyes. Michael sat, stunned for a moment. Then, he reached forwards and closed the dead CEOs' eyes. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it." Leaving the body propped up against the counter, he retrieved the jacket that the assassin had discarded. Searching through its pockets, he retrieved a Glock 9mm pistol equipped with silencer. Tucking it under his own jacket, he left the bathroom.

Melanie looked up as the background sounds of dining patrons died away. Michael, his shirt speckled with the blood of the assassin and Handock as well as his own, strode across the restaurant. "Come on," he said. "We've got to get out of here."

"Why? What's going on?" Melanie stammered.

"No questions, just come on!" Michael dragged her to her feet and led her to the door. As they passed, he flicked two bank-notes down in front of the concierge. "Keep the change." Then the two left the restaurant. Seconds later, four more men covertly followed the pair out of the restaurant. The chase was on.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Melanie and Michael dashed across the car-park. Michael glanced over his shoulder, looking for any signs of pursuit. None yet. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key and transmitter. "We need something fast, something nimble, something cool." His eyes fell upon the car several spaces away. "Oh yeah, that'll do nicely." He sprinted towards the car, a black Toyota Chaser Tourer V with tinted windows. Activating the transmitter, he disabled the alarm. Then, he opened the passenger door. "Get in!" Melanie dived into the vehicle as Michael closed the door behind her. As he made his way around to the driver's side, he heard the slap of shoes against concrete. Looking up, he spotted the four assassins sprinting towards him. As he opened the door, a shot rang out. Michael ducked as the bullet shot over him and embedded itself in a Ford parked further along. As he climbed into the car, he turned the ignition, slammed the car into gear and removed the brake. The acceleration of the car slammed his door closed as the Chaser leapt off the mark, accelerating for the road. Another shot blasted through the rear window. Melanie screamed and ducked as Michael swore and spun the wheel, sending the car fish-tailing out of the car-park and away.

Michael glanced in the rear-view mirror, looking for signs of pursuit. Beside him, Melanie sat up in the passenger seat. "What's going on?" she cried.

"Walter Handock's dead," Michael stated flatly. "Looks like we've struck upon something that the Company doesn't want to be made public."

"The Company? But they're only a myth." Another bullet pinged off the bodywork of the car. Michael swerved sideways. "That didn't seem like a myth." He looked in the rear-view mirror. Behind him, a pursuing vehicle leapt like a dark panther through the shadows. A distant street-light briefly illuminated it, revealing it to be a Lexus IS300. The executive sedan began to gain on the speeding Toyota, obviously supercharged. Michael swore, then reverted his gaze back towards the road before him. Before him, the road split. One road led west, towards the Interstate. The eastern road headed towards Lake Superior. Michael spun the wheel right, sending the sedan tearing down the eastern road, with the Lexus in hot pursuit.

In the Toyota, Melanie lay flat in the rear seat. "So what's the plan?"

Michael grimaced as he slid the vehicle around a corned overlooking the lake. "We lose these guys, then continue our dinner date." He grinned. "I know a nice little place that does a fantastic margarita." He ducked as another bullet blasted through the windshield. "Damnit, how disrespectful are these guys to such a brilliant piece of machinery?" He growled as he swept the vehicle round another corner, with the Lexus close behind.

Further down the road, a policeman sat astride his motorbike, sipping on a coffee purchased from a local coffee shop. He sighed; another boring night. His revelry was shattered as the Chaser roared by, with the Lexus in hot pursuit. The cop swigged the last of his coffee, discarded the cup and roared off in chase. He rode hard, eventually drawing alongside the Lexus. He made the gesture to pull over through the darkened windows of the vehicle. As the passenger window rolled down he leaned closer, just as the barrel of a gun emerged. The policeman bailed out, throwing himself away from the car, his bike, and the gun, rolling and tumbling to a stop. Slowly he came to his feet as the vehicles disappeared around a bend.

Michael kept his foot hard to the floor as the faithful Toyota swept around yet another corner. "That's it. I've had enough of this." Swiftly, he slipped the Chaser into neutral and threw the wheel hard right. The sedan spun about in a 180-degree spin. Michael jammed the car back into gear, smoking the tires as 276 horsepower killed the backward momentum dead, then accelerated it back down the road in the direction it had come. He wound down the window and deactivated the safety on the Glock. As the Lexus swept around the corner, Michael opened fire. The gunners in the Lexus starting firing as well. Like two ancient jousters on metallic steeds, the two blasted past each other. For a split-second, as the two vehicles slipped by, Michael saw his opponents; four men in suits. Then the two cars were clear. The Lexus immediately swerved around, while the Chaser roared back down the road, headed for Chicago. Michael turned and looked back. "You OK?"

Melanie nodded. "Yeah, but we've got to lose these guys."

Michael looked forward, and saw it. "And I've just figured out how." He turned sharply onto a side-road. The Lexus followed, heading towards a concrete structure up ahead. Beside the road stood a road-sign; LAKE SUPERIOR MEGA-MALL, 2 MILES.

The Lake Superior Mega-Mall was a concrete mass, rising into the night sky. There was no movement, no noise, at least until the two cars arrived. The Toyota leapt across the open space in front of the mall towards the glass front, before plunging through and into the building. In hot pursuit, the Lexus punched another hole in the glass. The duo tore through the mall, sending chairs and tables flying. In the Chaser, Michael tried to dodge the concrete plant features that were dotted around. He threw the sedan into a powerslide around a corner as the Lexus came up on the inside, its driver matching the Chaser move for move. As the chase continued, the Lexus was always right on the tail of the fleeing Toyota. At every corner, the Lexus was always beside them. Michael knew that this battle had to end soon.

And then it hit him.

As he approached the Food Court of the mall, Michael threw his vehicle into another left-hand turn. Only this one went wide; _waaaay_ wide. Then, as it had before, the Lexus swept in on the inside of the sliding Chaser. The assassin in the passenger seat took aim. Michael, in turn, smiled and waved goodbye. The assassin frowned as the driver of the Lexus suddenly screamed, seeing the inevitable. The Chaser slid around the concrete wall concealing the Food Court. The Lexus did not. With the crunch of twisting metal, the Lexus plowed sideways into the wall, erupting into a fireball. The flames licked their way up, illuminating the billboard mounted on the wall. As the flames consumed it, the slogan on the billboard became briefly visible; 'Lexus – The Pursuit Of Perfection'.

Several minutes later, the battered Toyota Chaser pulled up at the hotel where the press were staying, Michael got out, walked around to the passenger door and opened it. Melanie stepped out of the vehicle as if she was disembarking a Rolls-Royce rather than a battle-scarred sedan. As they made their way across the lobby and into a lift, Michael withdrew his phone. "Hello, 911? A car just pulled up at the hotel across the road from me. I think it's stolen." He hung up. As they arrived at the door to Melanie's room, Melanie looked up at Michael. "Well, thank you for a very interesting night Mr Merkenson."

"Think nothing of it," Michael replied. "It is not the events, it is the company that makes these things exciting."

"Well then, goodnight." Melanie opened the door, stepped through and closed it again. Michael stood in the hallway for a moment, then made his way back towards the lifts. He was only halfway there when he was grabbed from behind, spun around and kissed passionately by Melanie. When the two disengaged, Melanie sauntered back into her room, leaned around the doorway and raised one eyebrow before disappearing, leaving the door open. Michael beamed and followed, closing the door behind him.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

The sun dawned on the Great Lakes, illuminating them with its distant fire. It wouldn't be long before the crowds would arrive, getting the best positions for the second race event of the Naval Royale.

Down in the dock area, Michael and Jake worked on the thrust unit mounted to the back of _Sea Viper_. Michael had his upper torso stuck through a hatch in the top of the vessel. "Screwdriver," he said in a muffled voice. Jake handed the instrument through the hull, and Michael resumed his work. Minutes passed, then Jake spoke up. "So, I bet you and Melanie had an interesting night."

A loud _thud_ and a muffled profanity rang out as Michael shot up and smacked his head on the hull. He withdrew and glared at his friend. "How'd you figure that one out?"

Jake grinned. "I am clever. I am smart. I took a lucky guess."

Michael feigned an angry look, and then grinned. "What can I say? What happens happens."

Jake clapped his friend on the back. "Just don't screw it up."

An hour later, the remaining boats in the field, eight in all, bobbed upon the waves of Lake Superior. Just beyond them, the speedboats containing the drivers sat in the water, awaiting the go signal. Further beyond them, the spectator fleet motored about. Michael took a swig from his water bottle. "Got the course laid in?"

Jake, in the drivers chair, raised an eyebrow. "Pfft. Who needs GPS? I can navigate through instinct."

Michael laughed. Then his ears pricked up as a broadcast came over the radio. "_Drivers, thirty seconds._"

Michael flicked on the screen in front of him, displaying a view from the bow camera on _Sea Viper_. "Alright, here we go."

Back on shore, Melanie sat in the press area, rapidly making notes on her notepad. Suddenly, Stan the cameraman poked his head around the corner. "Yo, Mel, they're about to start."

"Thanks." Melanie opened up her laptop, then started scanning through the camera angles. Finally, she found one set on Michael, alert in his pursuit boat. She smiled. "Good luck."

"_Three…two…one…go!"_ squawked the radio. Michael immediately pushed _Sea Viper_ up to full power as the pack tore out of the start. Beside him, Jake slid the throttles of the speedboat up to full speed. The support boats all quickly got up on plane as their R/C counterparts skimmed away across the water.

As the first corner approached, the lead boat _Sea Lion_ slid around into its turn. Directly behind, _Oceanic Challenger_ was in hot pursuit, drafting slightly from the airflow coming off the back of the high-performance vessel before it. The two proceeded down the straight, before _Oceanic Challenger_ deployed its boosters and shot past. The driver of _Sea Lion_, not expecting the bright flash of the rocket boosters blazing into his camera view, lost control. At 40 knots, _Sea Lion_ went sideways and flew apart, its debris forming a large mass that the other competitors swept around.

Michaels' face was set in concentration as _Sea Viper_ skimmed by the wreckage. "That looked painful." He flicked the camera view sideways, to see the image of _Hydra_ skipping alongside. "Well, hello Kurt." As the race progressed, _Sea Viper_ and _Hydra_ overtook more of the competitors, until both were directly behind _Oceanic Challenger_. There they held position, awaiting that one mistake that can make or break a race. They didn't have long to wait.

"_Oceanic Challenger, engineering casualty!_" The speeding boat lost speed, rapidly settling off plane. _Sea Viper_ and _Hydra_ acted instantly, tacking around the disabled vessel and heading towards the finish. The two pounded their way through the waves in a dead heat. Michael clenched his teeth and jammed his thumb down on the throttle, but _Sea Viper_ was already firewalled. The finish was only 100 metres away, and both boats were still dead-even.

Then he heard it.

"_Oceanic Challenger, Oceanic Challenger, stop engines and heave to._" Seconds past, then came the reply. "_All vessels, Oceanic Challenger is rogue. Repeat, Oceanic Challenger is rogue! We have lost control. It's got a mind of its own, and it's heading towards shore!_" Michael looked up at Jake, who was punching buttons on his own screen. On the map of the track, a dotted line made its way towards shore, displaying the course of _Oceanic Challenger_. "It's headed for the stands."

Michaels' heart turned to ice. "Warn them!" Jake reached for the microphone, just as the official came back on the line. "_All vessels, knock it off, knock it off, knock it off. Shore station, evacuate the stands ASAP, over!_" Silence. The message was repeated, but there was no reply. Jake turned in horror. "They'll never know what hit them."

Michael reacted in a split-second. He slammed his hands down on the controls. _Sea Viper_ slewed around and scorched off in pursuit of _Oceanic Challenger_. Jake got back on the radio. "Team Decimator, report position."

The voice of Carlos came back over the airwaves. "_Oceanic Challenger is headed east at 120 magnetic. Speed is…cripes…65 knots! The engines are at 140!_" Jake looked back at Michael. "Too fast for the official boats. She's holding a full-house over us."

"Then we'll have to burn the deck." Michael looked up at his friend. "It's time to show this competition what _Sea Viper_ can really do." He turned back to his laptop, and activated a small microphone installed in the screen. "Initiate program Lightning Zero-One."

"_Voice print confirmed_" a digitised feminine voice replied. _"Program Lightning Zero-One engaging."_

Out on the water, _Sea Viper_ was screaming across the waves on an intercept course at 40 knots when the changes began. First, two hatches slid open at the stern and two fins extended into the water on either side of the vessel. At the same time, the twin booster rockets emerged from below deck and locked in position. Then, in a shower of sparks, both rockets detached and were swept away by the airflow. Seconds later, two far larger, _meaner_ boosters locked into place. Finally, the roar of the diesel engine died away. In its place, the loud scream of a miniature gas-turbine engine spun up. One of Jake's original designs, this small turbine provided huge amounts of energy to the waiting propellers. As the power reached them, _Sea Viper_s' speed shot upwards. 50 knots. 60…70…80...85 knots. The vessel shot across the waves, with only the very rear part of the hull and the twin fins touching the water.

Michael grinned as several new displays flicked into life on the screen. He spoke into the radio. "Naval Royale Command, this is _Sea Viper_. Requesting weapons-free at this time."

A moments silence. "_Sea Viper, please clarify your intentions."_

Michael rolled his eyes. "Command, _Sea Viper_ has engaged Super-Pursuit Mode. We intend to engage _Oceanic Challenger_ and either divert or destroy her."

"_Stand by Sea Viper._"

Michael's eyes flicked across the displays as _Sea Viper_ screamed towards her target. Then… "_Sea Viper, Naval Royale Command. You are authorised weapons free. Repeat, weapons free. Good luck_."

"Thanks Command. Sea Viper is engaging." Michael turned to Jake. "Here we go then."

Jake grinned. "You're going to want the front guns, right?'

"Yup."

_Oceanic Challenger_ bounded across the waves in its headlong charge. Astern, the wake of the speeding boat threw a rooster-tail of spray high into the air. And all the time, the stands in the distance began to grow bigger on the horizon. It was onto this scene that the _Sea Viper_ pulled up alongside. The two boats shot side by side across the waves. _Sea Viper_ sidled sideways and nudged _Oceanic Challenger_. As the sideways thrust began to build, the bow of the runaway vessel began to come about, moving away from the stands and the bystanders. In control of the situation, Michael grinned. "Sweet. This ain't bad." As he said it, _Oceanic Challenger_ cut thrust briefly. _Sea Viper_ slid past and away. _Oceanic Challenger_ then leapt back up to full speed, only now it was carving an unending series of 'S' curves across the waves. "Damn, she's not rogue." Michael hissed.

"That's a controlled manoeuvre," Jake called. "She's being controlled from somewhere."

In the stands, a small boy scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars. As his view moved across the lake, he saw the two boats screaming towards him. He pointed. "Mummy, Mummy, look!" His mother raised her hand to her eyes and squinted against the glare. "What the…"

The distance was three kilometres to impact. Michael grimaced. "Damnit. There's no way out." His eyes closed briefly, then flew open. "Arm the Eve device."

Jakes' fingers flew across the keyboard. "Eve device ready, engage on your command."

Michael smiled slightly. "Then here we go." He swung the _Sea Viper_ around and set an intercept course for the speeding _Oceanic Challenger_. Both vessels sped towards the stands; _Oceanic Challenger_ at 65 knots, _Sea Viper_ approaching 90.

Spectators pointed at the oncoming boats. Someone screamed. Suddenly, the mass of people tried to clear the stand and the incoming vessels.

Michael nodded as the _Sea Viper_ skimmed past the _Oceanic Challenger_ and shot ahead. "Alright then. Here we go." He slewed _Sea Viper_ into an abrupt 180 degree spin. As it did so, the auto-cannons on the bow of _Sea Viper_ began to hammer, sending round after high-explosive round into the oncoming _Oceanic Challenger_. But this wasn't going to be enough. Michael adjusted course slightly to starboard, then watched as the bow of his foe filled his vision, before the view went to static.

At a combined speed of 155 knots, _Sea Viper_ and _Oceanic Challenger_ collided. The sheer kinetic force involved disintegrated the bows of each vessel. Then, as fuel tanks ignited, a tremendous fireball blew outwards from the wreck. The crowd watched in horror as, 200 metres out from the shore, the shattered hulks sank below the waves.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Michael slumped through the door of his hotel room. Naval Royale Command had interviewed him for the past six hours over his actions in destroying the _Oceanic Challenger_. He staggered to the couch and flopped down upon it, turning on the TV. On the 42" plasma, the tail end of the press conference was playing out. The Acting Chairman of the Naval Royale Committee addressed a veritable forest of microphones upon the dais before him. "It has been determined that a computer fault caused by electromagnetic interference resulted in the vessels _Oceanic Challenger_ and _Sea Viper_ going out of control. Both vessels were destroyed via self-destruct before the public was in any risk?"

One reporter rose. "Mr Stophanes, what do you have to say about allegations that the _Sea Viper_ was involved in a head-on collision with _Oceanic Challenger_, and indeed was reported to be engaging the vessel before the explosion?"

Stophanes raised his eyebrows. "Both vessels were destroyed by their in-built self-destruct mechanisms. The race had been declared weapons-tight, and no munitions were discharged. _Sea Viper_ and _Oceanic Challenger_ were following the same course upon their destruction. There were no weapons of any variety employed."

The room erupted as more questions were directed at the besieged director. Stophanes motioned towards another reporter, who stood up. Melanie looked the chairman in the eye. "Mr Stophanes, what will happen with the members of Team Decimator and SeaMaster?"

Stophanes met her gaze. "Neither team had any way of preventing this incident. As such, both teams will be placed in regard to the points already received." He stopped, took a breath. "The regular rules relating to repair of the vessels do apply in this circumstance, but in consideration of the considerable damage to both vessels," considerable meaning total, "it is unlikely that either team will be able to return to the competition."

Michael turned off the TV. He sat there in the silence for a moment. Then, he got off the couch, made his way to the table and fired up his laptop. After scrolling through the telemetry readings, he found what he was looking for; the video footage of the last moments of the _Sea Viper_. As he watched the footage repeatedly slam into static, he heard a figure enter the room. He turned, and saw Melanie standing in the doorway. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Melanie replied. Then, she dashed across the room and into Michaels arms. They stood there for a while. "So what will you do now?" Melanie said.

Michael grimaced. "There is a bigger problem at hand here. We need to figure out what's going on. There is a plan. Now we need to find it."

Melanie looked up at him. "And how do you intend to do this?"

Michael smiled for the first time in several hours. "Through good old-fashioned detective work."

It was still dark the next morning when Jake knocked on Michael's door. No answer. He knocked again, somewhat louder. Then, the door opened slightly as Michael poked his head out. "What?"

Jake held up a collection of discs. "I've managed to hack into Handock's computer and get the Calypso files. I've been looking over them for most of the night."

Michael withdrew for a moment, then opened the door fully. Jake entered the room and removed his laptop from his bag, powering it up and loading the program from the disc. "There's some very interesting signals emitting from the east at the time that the vessel went out of control, and again when the S-curves started."

Michael emerged from the kitchen with a pot of coffee and two mugs. He filled one and took a sip, letting the caffeine-rich concoction energise him. "What kind of frequencies are we looking at?"

"Well, there's some real good mid-range stuff, but it's here that things get really interesting." He highlighted a region of the electromagnetic graph and expanded it. "I haven't seen a signal like this in years. Not since…well…"

"Since what?"

Jake took a sip from his own coffee, and organised his thoughts. "Remember the signals in Afghanistan back in the early part of the decade?"

Michael frowned. "Yeah, the ones that the NSA tracked, but never managed to get a lock on. What about them?"

"What do you remember about the timing?"

Michael put down his coffee. "The signal appeared three times; once before the _Cole_ bombing, another before September 11 and again at the bombings in London." He froze. "So you reckon…"

"That this is way beyond this competition." Jake downed the last of his coffee. "The Company is far more involved that anyone had ever thought."

"So what do we do to stop it?"

Jake turned in his chair to see Melanie emerging from the master bedroom in a basketball vest. His gaze flicked accusingly to Michael, who raised his eyebrows. Muttering under his breath, Jake continued. "This is the kind of thing that requires a massive beef-up of security for the entire competition. We need to report this, and we need to do it now."

Melanie nodded. "I'll go start working on things from the press end. I'll catch up with you later." She stretched up on her tip-toes and kissed Michael on the cheek, before walking across the lounge and out the door, closing it behind her. Michael and Jake watched her leave. Then, after a few seconds silence, Jake spoke; "So this is what I get for keeping my mind on the task at hand?"

Melanie made her way down the corridor towards the elevator, heading back to her room. As she did so, she smiled to herself. As the lift arrived, she saw that there was already an occupant; a man wearing a business suit and tie. Stepping inside, she pressed the button for her floor. As the doors closed, she became aware that the man was watching her closely. "What?" The reply came when the man's arm shot out as he went for the carotid artery. Melanie was unable to move as the move swiftly incapacitated her and she collapsed to the ground. The man withdrew a syringe filled with a tranquilliser and injected it into her arm, before taking out a key and taking manual control of the lift, heading downstairs to the car-park.

Back in the hotel room, Michael and Jake worked on an e-mail to send to the Acting CEO of the NRC. Michael sipped at his coffee while Jake typed. "Hmmm. Is 'massive kettle of fish' formal enough?'

"Nah." Michael thought for a moment. "Try 'danger to national security'. That always seems to work."

The two nodded, then laughed despite themselves.

Meanwhile, down in the car-park, the limp form of Melanie was loaded into a dark sedan. The vehicle was then driven out of the car-park and out onto the street. Meanwhile, another suited figure crossed the lobby of the hotel. Reaching the front desk, he handed a letter to the concierge, along with the request that it be delivered as soon as possible.

Michael and Jake were putting the final touches on the message when there was a knock on the door. Opening it to find a bellboy with the letter, Michael signed for the message and opened it as he stepped back into the room. He made it halfway across the central room before he stopped. Jake watched as the face of his friend turned grey. "What is it?" Michael held out the letter as a look of fury crossed his face. Jake took it and read it

_Merkenson_

_It has come to out attention that you have become a rather large problem to us. As such, we have decided that action is required to ensure that your continued interference is not to continue. We have Ms Griffith, and unless you deliver the discs with the signal to Colburns Point in two hours, she will be experiencing a close-up with the bottom of Lake Michigan._

_Further instructions will be sent to you shortly._

_It's your choice._


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Michael turned off the Interstate and headed down a side-road leading to the beach. Around him, Douglas Fir-trees were everywhere, in an area preserved for nature against the onset of man and his technological advances. At any other time, the nature would have been rather nice to look at. But Michael was concentrated on a task far more important that the trees. He slowed the Holden Commodore to a slow crawl, looking for a sign that he had arrived at the right place. Suddenly, the passenger door opened and a man in combat fatigues got into the car. "Turn around, get back on the Interstate, we're going north," the man said in a tight-clipped manner.

"So we're not doing this at Colburns Point then?" Michael asked.

The soldier snorted. "Come off it Merkenson. Do you really think that we would be that stupid? Back on the Interstate. We're going north."

Michael looked at the soldier, then nodded. "If you say so." And with that, he turned the vehicle around and headed out of the forest.

As the sedan ate up the miles of the Interstate, Michael and the soldier drove in silence. Mile after mile, the duo travelled. Finally, Michael spoke. "So, what it is that you're planning. I assume that it is not going to be all that nice."

"This world needs the ability to enforce peace around the world. With the way that it is run at this point in time, this cannot be done. We need the ability to enforce what we say, to crush those who threaten us."

"And Walter Handock didn't agree with that in the end."

The soldier was silent for a moment. "Handock was not a man for change. At first, he was a brother in our fight. But he ended up being just like the rest. Those who refuse to stand, fall of their own will."

Michael nodded. "You guys are insane. You know that?"

The soldier growled. "Just drive."

An hour later, the Commodore left the Interstate, and reverted to the highways leading through Chicago. Another half hour, and the car was finally approaching its destination. Up ahead, the action and bustle of O'Hare International Airport was already in full swing. The soldier directed Michael towards the freight area, then through to a guarded area at the end of a long tunnel. Stationed at the security gate were two security men. One approached the car and gestured Michael to lower his window while the other stayed in the booth, his M-16 held at the ready. "State your business."

The soldier looked up at the guard. "Final payload addition for the aircraft at Stand Four-Zero. Authorisation Taggart Alpha-Foxtrot."

The guard looked down at his PDA and scrolled through the manifest of incoming cargo. "Alright. Move forward onto the scanner belt, then turn off your engine." Michael nodded, wound up the window and drove forward into the tunnel. Three seconds after the vehicle came to a halt, a conveyer belt began moving the car along the tunnel. After several seconds, Michael turned to the guard. "I'm assuming, as the scanners haven't gone crazy yet, that you are not armed."

The soldier, for the first time, grinned slightly. "Fear is a weapon in itself. Besides, if you try to do anything stupid, you lovely lady friend will meet a decidedly unlovely end. So shut up and enjoy this brief moment of silence."

Michael did so, thinking over what had just been said. When the car reached the end of the tunnel, he started the car again and followed the directions of the soldier beside him, heading out onto the apron of the busy airport. As they rounded a hanger, Michael sucked in his breath as the aircraft at Stand Four-Zero became visible. Before him sat an A-380 super-jumbo, the biggest commercial jet in the world. The worlds first true double-decker airliner, this one was a pure white colour, except for the tail number at its tail. Another modification was a lowered cargo ramp at the rear of the aircraft. At the soldier's direction, Michael drove to the ramp, before following the instructions of the waiting loadmaster and reversing the Commodore up the ramp and deep into the belly of the aircraft. As waiting engineers locked the vehicle in place with cargo straps, Michael and the soldier got out. Several more engineers, armed with compact M9 semi-automatic pistols, surrounded Michael as he reached into the back of the car and withdrew the backpack containing the Calypso files. "Just as a reminder not to do anything stupid," the soldier said. "Come along." As the group left the cargo deck, Michael heard the massive engines outside roar to life as the aircraft moved to its departure. By the time that the group had arrived at the middle deck, the super-jet had taken off and was climbing away from O'Hare, heading east across Lake Michigan towards its unknown destination. The group then stopped briefly as mild turbulence shook the aircraft. Finally, as the plane levelled out at its cruising altitude of thirty-seven thousand feet, Michael was shown to a door on the top level of the plane. The soldier knocked twice, and a voice inside answered. "Enter." An engineer opened the door, then gestured for Michael to go through. Michael did so, then stopped. A large oaken business desk dominated the centre of the room, with two leather-covered chairs set before it. In one sat Melanie, with a glass of orange juice sitting untouched before her. But it was the figure behind the desk that shocked Michael. A figure that rose to his feet as the group entered.

"Well Michael," Carlos McHarris said pleasantly, "I think it's time we had a little chat."


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

"Please, take a seat."

Michael made his way to the other unoccupied chair and sat down. A stewardess offered him a cup of coffee, which Michael accepted. Ignoring McHarris for the moment, he turned to Melanie. "You OK?"

Melanie smiled slightly. "Not bad. Yourself?"

"Surviving." Michael then noticed that Melanie was now dressed in a smart business suit. "What happened to my top?"

"It's down in one of the other rooms. It was the choice between it and this, and you know I can't resist anything by Louis Vuitton."

"Damnit. I like that top." The two smiled at each other. Now, finally, Michael turned to address the figure across the desk. "So, Carlos, I must say that I wasn't expecting this. Blowing up your own boat to allay suspicion? That must have cost you a pretty penny"

McHarris laughed as the stewardess placed a cappuccino before him. "Yes, the unfortunate departure of _Oceanic Challenger_ isn't going to be cheap, but my sponsors will take the loss in their stride. As you can probably tell from the aircraft, they can afford it."

"I'd imagine so." Michael took a long sip from the coffee before him and grimaced. "Too much sugar." He then looked up at the figure across the desk from him. "I guess this is the time where we traditionally do the whole 'why are you doing this' thing?"

McHarris nodded. "Straight to the point. I like that. And since you're both going to die in the next hour, I don't see the harm." He drained his cappuccino and stood up. "Then again, that would be the typical thing to do, so I'm not going to tell you. I will say that the world will never be the same after we're through though."

"Aww, come on. I really don't like surprises." Michael needled.

"Really? Well imagine the surprise that some poor duffer in Indiana is going to get when they find your bodies after a 4-kilometre fall. It's not going to be pleasant." McHarris gestured to the guard standing by the door. "Take them to the cargo hold and dispose of them." The guard stepped forward and dragged Michael and Melanie to their feet. Then, as they were about to leave the office, McHarris spoke again. "Wait." Michael turned as McHarris stepped out from behind the desk, drawing a pistol from his belt. Ejecting the magazine, he removed all but one bullet from the Sig Saeur. Satisfied, he re-inserted the clip and handed the gun to the guard beside Michael. "Give him the gun before he steps out. One bullet; for himself or the lady." McHarris grinned, waved goodbye in a child-like manner, then returned to his desk as the guards hustled Michael and Melanie out into the corridor.

As the group made its way down the corridor, Melanie whispered to Michael. "So what do we do now?"

Michael frowned. "I'm going to admit that I actually don't know this time."

Melanie was silent. "So this is it then?"

"'Fraid so."

The group continued through the aircraft before arriving at the forward part of the plane, just in front of the starboard wing. As they reached the door, another figure emerged from behind them; the soldier from before. "So, Mr Merkenson, the time has come for you and your lady friend to bid this mortal world farewell."

Michael looked up at the soldier. "I suppose this is not the time to ask for a formal pardon."

The soldier grinned slightly. "It's never too late not to try. It's as a wise man once said; the one who never races, never wins."

Michael froze at the comment, only for an instant. The guard moved forward to prod Michael into action. As such, he missed the blur of movement behind him as the soldier swung a handy fire extinguisher in a short, brutal arc that intersected the guard's head with a loud _clonk_. The guard fell to the ground, out like a cheap light bulb. The soldier dropped the extinguisher and retrieved the guards weapon, along with the pistol with one bullet. He handed the two weapons to Michael. "I really hope you know how to use these,"

Melanie was stunned. "What the…who are you?"

Michael took her by the hand and kissed her. "Frankly my dear, at this moment, I couldn't care less." He took the weapons. "What's the plan then?"

"McHarris will realised soon that something's wrong," the soldier said, scanning the corridor for any suspicious guards drawn by the commotion. "We need to get to the rear cargo bay. From there, we can hitch-hike."

"_Hitch-hike_?" Melanie said incredulously. "Are you seriously suggesting that we merely catch a ride as simply as sticking out our thumbs? And just who are you?"

The soldier sighed, exasperated. "Later. For now, I'd like to get off this damned airplane. Now if there's no further business, come on." And with that, the three charged off towards the rear of the aircraft.

Back in his office, McHarris was starting to get suspicious. "Someone check with that guard. Why have we not released the bodies yet?" Grumbling to himself, he turned to his computer and brought up the images from a selection of security cameras set up throughout the aircraft. He was just about to switch away from the camera in the rear passenger cabin when he saw a door open and the three escapees slip through. "Well well well," he smirked. "This is going to be entertaining."

A guard suddenly leapt out of an alcove and grabbed Melanie from behind. Melanie screamed and ducked, just as Michael glanced behind him and saw her attacker. Simultaneously, two more guards jumped Michael and the soldier. The soldier acted instantly, jamming his elbow into his attacker's nose with a loud crunch. Michael's attacker yelled and aimed a karate chop at his neck. Michael ducked, jabbed his elbow into the man's solar plexus, before firing a vertical right-hook into the man's jaw-line, sending him sprawling. Melanie's attacker stopped in mid-attack, stunned at the swift elimination of his two colleagues. Melanie took the opportunity to duck as Michael leapt up, bounced off the passageway wall and roundhouse-kicked the man into dreamland. Landing on his haunches, Michael saw two more guards pounding their way down the corridor. As they drew closer, both guards drew wicked-looking Bowie knives from their belts and took up combat stances. Further up the corridor, the soldier took in the scene at a glance, before grabbing the only thing handy; an aluminium-serving tray left on a seat by one of the stewardesses. "Michael, catch!" He threw the tray Frisbee-style down the corridor. Michael caught it, then turned to face his attackers as another guard engaged in combat against the soldier. Michael twisted the tray sideways, deflecting one knife-blow into the wall, before tripping the other attacker. The two quickly recovered and tried to attack from both sides at once. Michael raised the tray as a shield, a millisecond before one of the knives pierced the tray and nearly made it all the way to his nose. Startled, Michael raised the tray and clocked the offender over the head with it, stunning him. The second guard made for a follow-up strike, but Michael swiftly clobbered him too. As the first man began to regain his senses, Michael swiftly unlocked a hatch in the floor, grabbed the man by the collar and unceremoniously dropped him in. The muffled cursing was cut off as Michael slammed the hatch shut. At the same time, the soldier gained the upper hand against his own attacker and sent him flying into a nearby bathroom, where the man's head clunked into a basin; instant K.O. In the space of less than a minute, now five guards lay motionless on the floor, while the sixth kicked up a fuss in his underfloor prison. Michael took Melanie by the hand and turned to the soldier. "Now, where were we?"

The soldier chuckled. "To the rear hold."

McHarris had watched with awe as his men had been eliminated. Enraged, he picked up a radio-transmitter. "Set up a barricade at the read hold! Don't let them escape. I want them dead! You hear me? Dead!"

With a creak, the hatch to the rear cargo hold swung open as the trio entered the hold. When the hatch creaked closed again, the waiting guards unleashed a storm of bullet-fire at the group. Michael and Melanie took cover, while the soldier returned fire. "I'm not going to be able to keep this up for long," he roared over the gunfire. "You're going to have to think of something clever here!"

Michael looked about him. In the cargo pallets before him, boxes were stacked ten-high. In the centre, aimed towards the closed main hatch, sat the Holden Commodore. Michael punched one of the boxes in frustration, and it rattled slightly. He looked up, puzzled. Then his eyes widened as he realised what the small boxed cans in front of him were. He reached up, withdrew one from its crate, pulled the pin and threw it. The smoke grenade sailed over the barricade, bounced twice before billowing thick clouds of dense grey smoke. As the fire continued blindly, the trio dashed for the Commodore in the middle of the deck, the soldier shooting out the tie-down straps holding it in place. Michael and Melanie piled into the back, while the soldier took the wheel. As he did so, he spoke into his collar. "Jaguar to _Dradelus_, we're making our departure now." He turned to Michael. "If you'll just open your windows and get the door please."

"With pleasure," Michael said, drawing his pistol and opening his window wide. The flour-screen was beginning to dissipate as Michael took aim at his target. Not one of the guards who were trying to spot a target through the gloom, but at a console just across the deck. He pulled the trigger. The bullet shot out of the gun and _pinged_ off the console. Actually, it bounced off a button on the console; a red button marked _Rear Door Open_. With the whir of hydraulic motors and the roar of escaping pressure, the rear cargo door cracked open and began to extend, the smokescreen being sucked out by the slipstream. As it did so, the soldier stepped on the accelerator. As if it knew this would be its final act on this earth, the mighty Commodore leapt off the mark with a roar, blasting past the guards and suddenly, _magnificently_, off the edge off the ramp and out into the abyss beyond.

As the car fell through the air, three figures climbed clear and clung to its outer surface. Michael, his hair being blasted backwards by the air-blast of the falling car, looked up as they fell away from the A-380. He looked down as, eight kilometres below, the ground began to grow nearer. He looked across the roof of the car at Melanie, clinging on for dear life, fear in her eyes. Then, finally, he looked to the soldier, who was calmly scanning the skies above them in a manner that suggested that he drove cars out of aircraft at twenty five-thousand feet every second Tuesday. Michael was about to try to shout something when a shadow fell upon them. He looked up as a dark silhouette blew out of the glare of the sun overhead and pulled alongside. Michael couldn't believe his eyes as a _B-1 bomber_ came alongside the falling group, matching their speed. The spoilers along the wings of the black beast flicked open as the warplane tried to slow itself, to match pace with the three plummeting figures.

The soldier made his move.

In one smooth movement, he reached out, grabbed Melanie by the scruff of the neck and _threw her_ towards the diving jet. Melanie screamed as she neared the aircraft, just as a hatch opened up in front of her, and she sailed through. Michael looked up at the soldier, who raised his eyebrows. Michael shrugged, coiled himself up, and then sprang for the hatch. He floated through the air in the zero gravity of the free-fall, closely followed by the soldier. As the duo passed through the hatch, it slid closed behind them. Then, with a smooth motion, the bomber pulled out of its dive and levelled out, leaving the faithful Commodore to crash into a jumble of twisted, fiery metal in an Indiana corn-field.

Michael quickly crawled over to Melanie as the plane levelled out. "You OK?" he shouted.

Melanie rolled over, laughing. "Beats the hell out of anything at Disneyworld." With Michael's help, she got to her feet as the soldier dusted himself off. "So, now that we're here, I think we both deserve an explanation."

The soldier was about to answer when the door behind him opened and a figure limped through. Wearing a green G-suit and carrying a wooden cane, the figure turned and extended his hand to Michael. "Ah, Mr Merkenson. We meet again."

Michael didn't know what to do, so he shook the man's hand as a matter of courtesy. "I'm sorry, but do I know you?" he asked.

"Oh my, it really has been that long, hasn't it?" The man drew himself up to his full height. "My name is Admiral James Bickerson, and I represent a company known as Dradle Industries. We're here to help."


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Three hours later, the car containing Michael, Melanie and Admiral Bickerson arrived at the port of Chicago. The Admiral showed his credentials, and the guards at the gate waved the car through. The driver made his way through the port, before reaching a pier at the far end of the base. As the vessel at the pier came into view, Michael's eyes widened, and Melanie gasped. Before them was an _immense_ ship, painted in an ominous grey paint-scheme. Massive naval cannons poked out of four giant turrets, with smaller guns covering the rest of the ship. Across the bow, in phantom lettering, was the words _Dark Trident_.

Half an hour later, Michael and Melanie were established in the Flag quarters aboard the mighty battleship. As they sipped at their coffees while awaiting the return of Admiral Bickerson, Michael took the opportunity to look around the office, to try and get the measure of the character of their rescuer. The quarters were panelled in polished wood, and there was a small bookcase crammed with books on naval tactics and the odd techno-thriller. Upon the walls were several diplomas, a doctorate and some various crew photographs of various ships. One photo stood out however. In it, two men sat on either side Admiral Bickerson. The trio all had their glasses raised to the camera, and all were smiling. As he set down his water glass, Bickerson reached into a drawer of his desk and smiling. Michael took the photo off the wall and flipped it over to look at the back. The caption read, '_After the Mauanui campaign_'. Michael frowned, then put the photo back on the wall. "What's wrong?" Melanie asked.

Michael was silent for a moment. "Remember the terrorist takeover of Mauanui several years ago? The one that was put down by the UN taskforce?"

"Yes?"

"Remember the rumours that were floating about afterwards? Of super high-tech weapons that no-one had ever seen before?"

Melanie was silent for a moment. "I remember several rumours, but nothing ever came of them. Why?"

"I think this Admiral Bickerson was there," Michael said. "And if anything I've seen so far of this Dradle Industries is anything to go by, I think they were there too."

The door opened and Admiral James Bickerson entered the room. He made his way over to the desk and poured himself a glass of water. As he took a sip, he turned to the wall of photos and removed one of the crew photos. He passed it across to Michael, who put down his coffee. "Your father and I served about the USS _Iowa_ during Operation Just Cause in Panama," he said. "We were both commanders back then." He nodded towards Michael. "We stayed in touch after we were both moved to different ships, and then again after we both retired. He frequently told us all about what his son was doing."

Michael smiled. "I remember, once, when Mum brought me home from kindergarten. You and Dad were both in the kitchen, talking about things." He laughed. "I was too interested in getting some cookies."

Bickerson smiled. "Sounds right." He reached into the desk again and retrieved a folder. "We've been asked to provide some under-cover security for the final race in San Francisco in three weeks time. We've also been keeping an eye on your activities, and we reckon you've stumbled across something big."

"Such as how big?" Melanie asked.

"Big enough that the NSA is starting to get interested." Bickerson opened the file and pulled out two sheets of A4 paper. "They've noticed the signal again, the one that kept appearing before the embassy bombings, the _Cole_ and 9/11, and they really don't want to see the US get clobbered again."

"Fair enough," Michael nodded. "So what do you want from us?"

Bickerson took a sip from his glass. "We need you to stay in the competition. Keep an eye on things from the inside." He nodded towards Melanie. "Owing to recent events, we'll be in the shadows watching."

Michael nodded again. "I'm more that happy to help keep an eye on things, but I'm not going to be able to see much. Especially since my boat is currently in multiple small pieces."

"Ah yes, about that." A sneaky grin sneaked across Bickerson's face in a sneaky manner. "It just so happens that we have a spare hull from a previous contender sitting in our storage. She's about twenty years old, but she's still seaworthy and has a lot of history behind her. You can put in your components, along with some of ours and be ready to run. Consider us your new sponsors."

Michael raised his eyebrows in shock. Then a broad grin crossed his face. "It's a deal." The two men shook hands. Melanie leaned over and gave Michael a hug. "There's only one condition though," Michael said as he looked over at Melanie. "I want one of your guys to keep an eye on her. I don't want a repeat of this morning."

Admiral Bickerson nodded. "I was wondering when you'd bring that up. Melanie, you're being assigned a new sound technician. He knows how to operate the equipment, and he'll be with you whenever you're in public."

"Sounds good," Melanie said.

"Excellent." The Admiral stood up. "In that case, let's get down to work."

Several hours later, Michael returned to the Naval Royale docks. As he arrived back at the building set aside for Team SeaMaster, Jake met him at the door with a stunned expression. "Mate, you're not going to believe this."

"Oh, I dunno…" Michael followed Jake into the building. There, in the middle of the main hanger bay, was a boat-like form, concealed beneath a dust-cover. "I arrived in just after midday and here it was. No one saw who dropped it off or anything." He rounded on Michael. "You didn't say anything on the phone about selling your soul for a new hull."

Michael laughed. "No, but we have a new reason to stay in this competition." He took a hold of the dust-cover and yanked it off the hull. "So let's take a look at the con…" His voice trailed off. The grey hull sat upon its blocks, its bow pointed like Excalibur towards the door. Recessed machine-guns sat in the bow of the vessel, while a turreted cannon pointed forward in its axe-blade turret. On the rear deck sat a wickedly barbed harpoon. Finally, twin hatches were set into the flanks of the vessel. Jake whistled softly. "Holy crap. This thing is packing." Michael stayed silent, his eyes focussed on the name written in white on the bow of the ship. Finally, Jake noticed what his friend was looking at. "Woah. So this is…"

"Yes, it is," Michael murmured. "This is the vessel. The original vessel for Team SeaMaster." He was silent for a moment, then whispered in a reverent voice. "My fathers' boat."

The duo stood, staring up at the battle-craft before them; it's armament, the deep gouges on the bow from the fateful impact. And at its name, proudly emblazoned across its bow.

_Seawolf Hunter_.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

As the new day dawned, its light slipped through a gap in the curtains of one hotel room. On the bed, Steven Karandos rolled over and groaned. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he reached over and smacked the groupie beside him playfully on the shoulder. "Wake up bubba. I'd like some coffee."

"Oh alright," the groupie muttered. Reaching over for her dressing gown, she vanished into the kitchen. For his part, Karandos put on his pants and went to the door to retrieve the morning paper. As he made his way back to the bedroom, his cellphone started to ring. Karandos lobbed the paper onto the bed and picked up the phone. "Yo?"

"_Steven, it's Mike. You seen the paper?"_

"Nope, not yet. I've been busy. Turns out that Juliana is a true fan…"

"_Steve, this ain't the time. Page A6, then get down here now."_ The line went dead. Steven unfolded the paper and flipped through to page A6. When he saw the article, he quickly put on a shirt, grabbed his bag and marched out of the hotel room. Seconds later, the groupie appeared with two cups of coffee. "Hey. Where'd you go?" She put down one of the mugs. Catching sight of the paper, she leaned closer to read the article. In the middle of the page, under a small print headline, was the title. _Team SeaMasters Back In Business_.

Down at the docks, Jake and Michael were looking over the schematics for the _Seawolf Hunter_. Michael smiled slightly as he looked over several words written in a familiar handwriting on the plans. "She's a real beaut Dad."

Jake grunted. "Yeah, well, we'll see how she handles when she gets out there. _Hydra_ is gonna be tough."

Michael snickered. "You're just angry that the TMA system that she came with is more accurate than your stuff"

"Yeah, well, we'll see." Jake looked up at the gun-metal grey form floating in the water before them. "She really is gorgeous though. Retro to the extreme, but gorgeous. And I gotta admit, I'm loving the retractable weapons." The vessel before them was currently 'fangs in', with all offensive weapons concealed within the black form

Michael grinned. "Who says that retro is bad?" He looked up as a car door slammed. His grin grew wider as Melanie hurried towards them. "Hey." Melanie gave Michael a peck on the cheek and turned to look out at the battle-craft. "So, this is the legendary _Seawolf Hunter_," she murmured.

"She certainly is," Michael said, putting his arm around her. "You know, I'm not even sure if I can drive her."

"What?" Both Melanie and Jake exclaimed.

"She's a part of my family history, one of the only links to my father. You just can't bash something like that up." Michael shrugged. "I just don't know."

Melanie looked up at him. "I see what you mean, but you can't progress through to the finals with just fancy footwork." The trio turned as another car door slammed. Steven Karandos strode down the dockway. "So, managed to scavenge a hull in order to keep your chances alive, huh?" he said in a mocking tone. He stood by the water and gazed out at the _Seawolf Hunter_. "Holy crap," he said. "Seriously, this is the best you can do? That thing is older than my car."

Michael managed to restrain himself. "I'd keep walking if I were you Steven."

Karandos chuckled. "Well, at least there's nothing to be freaked out over. You lost your first boat to stupidity, and your second looks like it could be destroyed by a following sea. I mean look at it. Never seen anything so crappy. Your father would be appalled to see your proud name attached to such a boat."

Michael moved forward. Melanie moved swiftly, getting in between the two men while Jake grabbed Michael by the shoulders. "You have no sense of history, do you Steven," she said.

"History? Pah. All that matters is the here and now." Karandos turned on his heel and walked away. "See you on the water."

Michael growled. "Easy boy," Jake coaxed. "Take him down in the best way possible."

"I want all safety interlocks removed," Michael snarled. "No holds barred. We're going all out."

Jake looked uneasy. "Mike, those locks were put in place for a reason. You've never driven this boat before. You have to get used to her…"

"Remove the goddamned interlocks!" Michaels' face was a mask of rage. "He's going to learn what happens when you insult my family."

Jake backed away. "Alright," he said softly. "Remove the locks." He turned and walked back to his laptop. Melanie was shocked. "Michael, that was uncalled for."

"It must be done." Michael gave her a stony look. "We need to get to the bottom of this. I need all the power at my disposal in order to win and protect you. Now, if you'll excuse me." He strode off.

Three hours later, Michael sat before the control console in the Team SeaMasters command trailer. On one of the screens before him, a countdown made its way slowly towards zero. Three minutes remained. Michael frowned, scanned the displays and readouts again. Behind him, the door opened and Jake entered the darkened trailer. Without saying anything, he took his seat at the engineering station. Michael cleared his throat. "Did you remove the interlocks like I asked?"

Jake sat silently for a moment. "I did," he said softly.

"Good." Michael looked over the controls again. "You must understand Jake, we must stay in this competition. And to do that, we need full power."

Jake spun. "I know that, but this is an untested boat. You have no idea what the _Seawolf Hunter_ can do. And you're going to charge in, unprepared, into a fight with one of the best fighters in the competition! It's insanity."

"Maybe, but it's the only way." Michael growled.

"The only way?" Jake was shouting now. "What happened to the guy who fought smart? You're letting Karandos dictate the terms of the fight, and once you've done that, the fight is already over."

"No!" Michael roared. "We are not done, but unless we have the full power of the _Seawolf Hunter_, we will be!"

Jake turned and looked at his friend. "Alright man," he said with resignation. "We'll do it your way."

Michael turned back to the controls, just as the timer ticked down the final few seconds. As it hit zero, Michael eased the throttles forward, and the _Seawolf Hunter_ motored out of its starting location, seeking its prey.

Back with the press, Melanie sat before a screen playing the battle. Beside her sat her new sound technician, whose eyes never stopped sweeping the crowd. "You sure you don't want any of this coffee?" she asked.

"I'm fine," said the man.

"K." Melanie looked at the screen as the black _Seawolf Hunter_ slipped into one of the many bays around Lake Superior. She sighed. "Be careful Michael."

Michael scanned the bay with his cameras. "Nothing here," he said. "Just one big rock garden."

"Try the next bay along," Jake suggested.

Michael turned the _Seawolf Hunter_ about, heading out of the bay. Suddenly. Jake caught movement on the rear screen. "Incoming!" he yelled. Michael instinctively jammed hard left on the steering controls, shoving the throttles forward. On the old _Sea Viper_, the boat would have shot left in a sharp curve. But the _Seawolf Hunter_, far more powerful, spun in a complete circle within two boat-lengths. Michaels' eyes widened in shock as he decreased the side pressure, sending the boat clear as the water behind exploded. _Hydra_ shot out from behind a rock and headed for open water. Snarling, Michael set off in pursuit.

Back in the press area, Melanie gasped as the _Seawolf Hunter_ shot clear of the explosion and charged across the water in chase. Out on the concourse, the crowd cheered at the sight of the new Team SeaMasters vessel, charging across the waves at full tilt. All Melanie could do was watch with trepidation.

The two vessels shot across the water at 40 knots. Michael growled as the distance slowly lessened. Fifty metres. Forty. Thirty. As the distance closed to twenty-five metres, Jake spoke up. "Watch your distance man." Michael continued to close in. "Michael, watch your distance." Fifteen metres. Michael eased the throttles further forwards. As the distance between the two boats closed to ten metres, Michael reached out and flicked a switch. Twin machine guns extended from their silos. Michael had no facial expression as his finger began to tighten on the trigger…

The water exploded.

_Seawolf Hunter_ went airborne. Her nose pointed skywards, she sailed perpendicular to the water. At forty-five knots, the impact would do damage for sure. Michael was frozen in shock. Jake instantly flicked a switch on his panel. Twin hatches slid open, and twin jet boosters emerged, simultaneously firing a metre-long flame. _Seawolf Hunter_'s tail lifted at the same time the bow descended. In the aerial dog-fighting world, the manoeuvre was known as a Cobra. At a slight bow-high angle, the vessel re-entered the water. Michael immediately cut power as the _Hydra_ vanished in among another rocky area, while _Seawolf Hunter_ coasted to a halt. In a split-second, Jake was out of his seat and had grabbed Michael by the shoulders. "What in the blue hell were you doing Merkenson?"

Michael stared blankly. "I can't. It's the boat. She feels wrong."

"Oh don't give me that crap," Jake shouted. "Remember the press conference. You're here to compete, not avenge."

Outside, the crowd watched in confusion as _Seawolf Hunter_ sat dead in the water. Melanie shifted uncomfortably. "Come on hon," she muttered under her breath. "Get back in there."

"I can't risk it," Michael roared. "I won't do anything with this boat. It's brought enough pain to this sport, and to those I love. I won't let history repeat itself."

Jake straightened up, stunned. Then, he began to chuckle. Soon, the chuckle became a full laugh. "What?" Michael growled.

"You. You're priceless," Jake laughed. He regained his composure, kneeled down to Michaels' level. "Mike, _Seawolf Hunter_ has a history, I'll admit that. I just have two questions. How many were killed in the crash of '95?"

"Twenty," Michael replied through clenched teeth.

"OK. And how many were in the stands that the rogue vessel would have hit?"

Michael sat up in his seat. "Several hundred."

"Exactly." Jake put his hand on his friends shoulder. "_Seawolf Hunter_ saved those people. Your father and her, side by side. And now, you two have the chance to do it again."

Michael nodded then grinned. Both men got to their feet. Michael then grabbed Jake in a one-armed bear hug. "Cheers man."

"No problem." Jake looked his friend in the eye. "Now, there's a certain driver out there that needs taking down a peg or five. Shall we?"

"Indeed."

Melanie looked up as the crowed roared in approval. On the large screen, _Seawolf Hunter_ was moving again. However, this was not the out-of-control sprint from minutes before. This was slower, more planned. Melanie smiled to herself. _Seawolf Hunter_ was hunting her prey.

As she venture into the rocky area, _Seawolf Hunter_ slowed. On her superstructure, a small hatch flipped open, just long enough for a small radar dish to emerge, make two sweeps, then retract. The old 'Lumpy Waffles' radar system was old, but it still got the job done. On the _Hydra_ threat receiver, the unfamiliar wavelength was measured by the system, then rejected as background scatter. On the _Seawolf Hunter_ display, multiple signatures popped up. Jake scanned over them all. "There, right in the middle. Go get him." Michael grinned and pushed the controls. Smoothly, like a snake slithering into its cave, the _Seawolf Hunter_ entered the rocky area.

In the _Hydra_ control centre, Steven Karandos grinned to himself. "Ain't no way that newbie is gonna find us in these here rocks." The groupie beside him giggled in a high-pitched voice. Karandos chuckled to himself as he guided the _Hydra_ through the rocks. He turned to the groupie. "So tonight, I thought we could go for drinks, then back to my place for a little…"

The groupie squealed and pointed at the screen, just as an alarm sounded. Karandos spun back, and saw nothing but water and rocks on the screen. His eyes widened as they flicked over the damage control readout. High-velocity impacts on the front on the boat. Suddenly, the side warnings illuminated. Karandos spun the _Hydra_ through three-hundred-and-sixty degrees. Nothing. Pointed back in the direction of travel, the vessel drove on. "What in the hell is going on here?" A second later, the rhetorical question was answered. As smooth as if she were on rails, the _Seawolf Hunter_ slid out into the channel, machine-guns deployed. Karandos was stunned to silence, staring down the barrels of the guns. For a moment, the two vessels faced off. Then, in an instant, the guns on the _Seawolf Hunter_ blurred into flame. Karandos pulled his own triggers, bringing the cannons on the bow of _Hydra_ to life. The two vessels charged, guns blazing. Then, in an instant, they were past each other. Now, the fight was truly on.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

_Neptunes Revenge_ instantly changed course, sweeping around for another pass. At the same time, _Seawolf Hunter_ leapt sideways, dodging in amongst the rocks and vanishing from sight. In the command centre, Karandos snarled. "Not today kid." _Neptunes Revenge_ swiftly got up on plane and charged into the rocks in pursuit. The two boats tore through the water, ducking and weaving among the many rocks. Whenever there was a chance, _Neptunes Revenge_ fired from its forward cannons. Splinters of stone flew in all directions, but the _Seawolf Hunter_ skimmed on, unscathed. _Neptunes Revenge_ bore onwards, closing the distance. Suddenly, Karandos caught a flicker of movement on the starboard camera. _Seawolf Hunter was there_, right alongside. _Neptunes Revenge_'s cannon turned in response, and started firing. Shots went wild as rocks intercepted the shells before they could get close to the speeding vessel Then, in an instant, both boats burst clear of the rocks and into the bay

The press compound erupted as the two boats re-emerged into the open water. Melanie joined in the cheering as _Neptunes Revenge_ and _Seawolf Hunter_ tacked away from each other, before turning in and opening fire. Impact sparks flared across the front armour of each vessel as the distance between them closed with phenomenal speed. _Neptunes Revenge_ blinked first, turning off its attack vector and aiming for open water. With a flare of jet exhaust, _Neptunes Revenge_'s speed increased dramatically and began to open the distance.

Back in the command trailer, Michael was calm. "Jake, I think we need to show Mr Karandos what this boat can really do."

"Roger that," Jake chuckled. "Let 'er rip good buddy."

On a touch panel to Michael's left, a red button appeared. Michael hesitated. "Give me a hand here Dad," he whispered towards the roof. Then, he reached forth and tapped the button with his index finger.

Out on the water, _Seawolf Hunter_ skimmed across the water at 45 knots. Suddenly, a panel opened in the front deck and a long-barrelled, axe-blade auto-cannon emerged. Oh the back deck, another hatch slid back, revealing a harpoon launcher. With a dull _boom_ the boost-jets ignited and _Seawolf Hunter_ began to run down her prey.

Back on shore, a silence had fallen over the crowd as _Seawolf Hunter_ sprouted new weapons and accelerated away. Then, as the vessel scorched across the waves, one person in the middle of the crowd started to cheer. "Kick ass! _Now_ we've got a party!" The cheering spread like an infection across the crowd as the supporters of Team SeaMasters urged their team onwards. Melanie could only grin as the speeding boat began to leave the camera vessel behind, while the speedo began to climb. 30 knots…40…50…_60…70_. Finally, as the two vessels drew level, the telemetry stream marked both boats as maxing out at 75 knots. At this speeds, only a small part of the hull touched the surface, as both boats practically flew across the surface.

Karandos was stunned when the black shape hove into view of _Neptunes Revenge's_ starboard camera. "What the…" he shook his head to clear it. "Screw this." Entering several keystrokes, _Neptunes Revenge_ turned its turreted auto-cannon towards its foe and started firing. _But Seawolf Hunter wasn't there anymore_. In a lightning move, _Seawolf Hunter_ slowed, cut across behind _Neptunes Revenge_, and sneaked up again to _port_. As Karandos switched cameras, _Seawolf Hunter_ opened fire, sending round after round into the armoured side of _Neptunes Revenge_. Orange and red damage warnings sprang to life on the engineering panel as _Seawolf Hunter_ began to score damage. Karandos had no choice but to peel off and charge away. _Neptunes Revenge_ turned sharply to starboard, sliding into a series of S-turns. _Seawolf Hunter_ sliced through the waters behind, keeping her distance. The two vessels scorched across the water, throwing their bow-waves high into the air. Karandos swore as the _Seawolf Hunter_ cut across in front of him. "Get away from me!" He pressed another button, sending flares low across the water in an attempt to distract the oncoming vessel. As _Seawolf Hunter_ went right, _Neptunes Revenge_ went left, opening the distance. Karandos snarled, pressed a button on his console. On the rear deck of the _Neptune's Revenge_, a large naval rifle emerged from the deck. With a roar, the weapon fired, sending a large shell screaming towards the distant _Seawolf Hunter_. The shell exploded, sending spray flying high into the air. When the spray faded, the _Seawolf Hunter_ was gone.

The crowd went silent as the cameras refocused on the scene of the explosion. In the press booth, Melanie gasped. "No, it can't be…" as the _Neptune's Revenge_ supporters began to cheer.

Down in the command booth, Steve Karandos smiled and turned to the groupie. "There. That wasn't so hard." He reached for a drink, pinching the girls behind as he did so. The girl giggled…as the water in front of the _Neptune's Revenge_ erupted. Engines roaring, _Seawolf Hunter_ literally _rocketed_ out from beneath the surface. Karandos stared in awe at his screen as his opponent slammed back into water. Still moving at full speed, _Seawolf Hunter_ blazed past the _Neptune's Revenge_. As it did so, the rear-mounted harpoon launcher engaged, sending a harpoon into the stern of the _Neptune's Revenge_. With a loud _twang_, the slack snapped away, and _Neptune's Revenge_ took off, at fifty knots, _backwards_. The two boats sped across the waves, _Neptune's Revenge_ being dragged along behind. Karandos roared with rage, deploying all the drag fins that he could. At full thrust, the _Neptune's Revenge_ began to fight its tormentor, slowing its stern-long rush through the waves. Soon, both vessels were in a dead heat, their propellers thrashing the water into foam with their immense power. Then, _Neptune's Revenge_, with its newer engines, began to gain way.

Michael smiled slightly as the speed indicator clicked into the negative. "Alright then. It's time to finish this." Rapidly, he entered a key-sequence into his console. Out on the water, _Seawolf Hunter_ responded. From her stern, the twin jet boosters emerged and angled upwards. With a roar, the engines ignited. _Seawolf Hunter_ snapped forward, drawing the cable that lashed it to _Neptune's Revenge_ tight. Then, as the slack was taken up, the laws of physics came into play. Under the immense thrust of its jet engines, _Seawolf Hunter_ lifted on the end of its cable. Maintaining the tension, the Team SeaMasters warship swung upwards. Suddenly, the jets cut out, but inertia carried the vessel up and over its opponent. The jets rotated, pulsed, spinning the boat in the air, as gravity began to regain its hold. Within the space of a second, _Seawolf Hunter_ had changed its position by ninety degrees on the vertical axis. What had been a balancing force was now a large object dropping out of the sky towards _Neptune's Revenge_. With an ear-splitting _crack_, _Seawolf Hunter_'s razor-edged prow sliced through the forward deck of its opponent like an axe through a pineapple. The two halves went in different directions, sinking as they went. With a blare, _Seawolf Hunter_'s horns screamed in victory as she floated alone on the battlefield.

The crowd erupted as the large screens showed _Seawolf Hunter_'s killing strike. Melanie, for her part, leapt up and cheered. Seconds later, the door to the control booth opened. Michael and Jake emerged. Michael punched the air as the crowd roared in approval. Then, the duo walked down the stairs and into the party.


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Seventeen

The Naval Royale village was quiet in the night. Many of the parties took place outside of the village compound, so the areas where the teams worked were abandoned, aside from the odd security. As such, no one looked up. Dressed in black, the group of ten made their way towards the base via parachute, gliding like ghosts through the night.

On the other side of the base, Michael and Jake locked up the hanger that housed the _Seawolf Hunter_. Michael watched as Jake entered the combination into the door-panel, which flashed red. With a _ker-chuck_, the door locked. "You sure you turned off that welding power supply?" Michael asked his team-mate.

"Damnit, I did," Jake retorted. "I welded the last panel over the bullet-hole, then turned off the power supply." He glared at his friend. "If you hadn't insisted on getting all the damage repaired before we go to San Francisco, and if you'd finished _Neptune's Revenge_ off _faster_, there wouldn't have been so many bullet holes, and we wouldn't have _needed_ to weld on the patches."

The two glared at each other, then laughed. Michael clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Come on. I'll buy you a beer."

"You? Buying the booze? Dear God, the world's coming to an end." The two walked hopped into the hired Toyota Celica and drove off.

At the entrance to the compound, the security guard looked up from his various screens as the Accord approached the gate. In the vehicle, Michael held out his photo ID pass. The guard nodded. "All fine Mr Merckenson. Well done today."

"Cheers Frank." Michael smiled, then drove through the raised barrier arm. Inside the booth, Frank smiled as the Toyota drove away. He never felt the 7.72mm round that took his life as the parachuting assault team flew overhead on their parachutes, landing just beyond the gate. Drawing their weapons, the assault team moved into the base.

Minutes later, Michael and Jake arrived at a nearby bar. Melanie and her Dradle Industries-supplied cameraman were waiting. Michael parked the car in the carpark, got out, and gave Melanie a hug. Melanie kissed him on the cheek. "Well done today."

"Cheers. Thought it was quiet a good show."

"I agree," the cameraman spoke up. "In fact, the admiral has authorised me to pay for the drinks tonight."

Jake cheered. "Make mine a Long Island Iced Tea."

Michael shook his head in exasperation, then wrapped his arm around Melanie. "Shall we?"

Melanie laughed. "Yes. Let's."

Back on the base, the assault team made their way through the base. Finally, one of the team looked up. The hanger before them bore the logo of Team SeaMasters. One man moved towards the door, and attached a small device to the combination pad that would allow them access. The numbers began to scroll through the device, as it began to hack the code.

In the bar, the man from Dradle Industries ordered the drinks as the four sat down at a table. The conversation flowed for a few minutes before Jake leaned over to Michael. "Hey, about that power supply…"

Michael swore, then turned to Melanie and her bodyguard. "Hey, we've got to go back to the hanger." He jerked his thumb towards Jake. "Someone forgot to turn off a major piece of equipment."

Melanie laughed, while her bodyguard smiled knowingly. "We'll come too." Michael indicated to the barman to hold the drinks, and the group headed towards the car outside.

In the compound, the assault team continued to wait for the hacking device to crack the code. One of the team-member approached the leader. "Come on," he snarled. "What's the hold-up?"

In an instant, the team-leader drew his knife and pressed it to the neck of the irritator. "Patience," he said. "We will complete our mission." He then turned back to the hacker device, which has located three numbers, and was hunting for the other three.

Michael drove the Celica towards the guard gate. In the back seat, Jake and the bodyguard were in the midst of a lively debate regarding the New York Mets chances in the World Series. Melanie was relaxing in her seat. Michael smiled as they pulled up to the guard booth. "Hey Frank," he said, looking out. Instantly, he tensed as he noticed that no one was there. "Guys, check out the booth." Jake and the bodyguard looked out the window. Jake saw it first. "Bullet-holes." The bodyguard got out, drawing an M9 Beretta from his jacket and checked the booth. Moving swiftly, he leapt into the booth and check Frank's pulse. "He's gone." The bodyguard looked over at Michael and Jake. "Get to your hanger. I'll guard the girl."

"Right." Michael turned to Melanie. "Bail."

"Ok." Melanie kissed Michael on the cheek and got out of the car.

"I'll call for reinforcements," the bodyguard said.

"Roger." Michael nodded, then planted his foot onto the accelerator. The Celica shot forward, breaking through the barrier. The bodyguard watched as the car vanished behind a building, then raised his watch to his lips. "Sentinel Two to Jaguar. Come in."

Melanie could barely hear it from her bodyguard's ear-piece, but she faintly picked up the reply. _"Jaguar to Sentinel Two, receiving. Go ahead."_

" Hunters One and Two have gone to the hanger. We may have an intrusion. Advise that you get her ASAP."

"_Roger. Five minutes out. Over and out."_

The bodyguard lowered his wrist, then looked over at Melanie. "Let's head back to the bar."

At the hanger, the lead assassin smiled slightly as the hacking device beeped softly and the door clicked. " Move in." The other nine in the group responded, moving ghost-like towards the door. Eight made it. Suddenly, headlights illuminated the last ninja. Swiftly, the Toyota Celica closed the distance and slammed into the last assassin. As soon as the car had stopped, Michael and Jake leapt out. "Man, I hope he was a bad guy," Jake muttered.

"Me too," Michael responded, looking over at the door. "Lock's compromised." The two looked at the open door for a minute, then dashed inside.

Outside the compound, Melanie and her bodyguard walked back towards town. "So, what's going on?" Melanie asked.

The bodyguard chuckled. "Well, I've called my bosses, and they should be on the way." Abruptly, a set of headlights illuminated the duo, and a sports car swept past. The duo watched as it went. "In fact," the bodyguard continued, "there they go."

Inside the hanger, Michael and Jake made their way quietly towards where the _Seawolf Hunter_ was stored. Finally, the vessel came into view. The duo took cover behind some parts boxes, about four metres away from where two assassins stood guard. Michael growled as two of the intruders propped a ladder up against the hull. "What are they doing to my boat?"

Jake looked around, and spotted a large wrench nearby. "You take out that one," he pointed to the nearer guard. "I'll brain his buddy."

"Gotcha." Michael began to close the distance, while Jake picked up the wrench. It clinked slightly as he picked it up. The two assassins turned at the sound. Michael reacted quickly, directing a karate chop into the neck of one assassin, stunning him. The other dodged, then emitted a warning yell to his compatriots. Then he rolled aside as one of his colleagues raised an MP-5 silenced sub-machine gun and opened fire. Michael's eyes bulged in surprise, and he swiftly rolled behind a nearby crate. As the bullet-impacts sparked off the concrete floor, he looked back at Jake. "So now what?" he yelled.

Jake shrugged. "How as I supposed to know?"

Michael was about to yell back when he heard it. An engine, screaming at high revs, came into range. Then, with an immense _bang_, the small roller door used for incoming deliveries was blown open as an Audi R8 sports-car blasted through, Tyres screeching, the silver vehicle slid to a halt in between the two groups. Stunned, the ninjas stopped firing. Abruptly, the car-doors opened and two figures got out; one tall and thin, the other slightly shorter, both wearing suits. There was total silence as Michael, Jake and the assassins watched as the two men who had dropped into their miniature war walked to the back of their car and popped the trunk. Seconds later, the shorter of the pair was holding an M4A1 assault rifle, while the other wielded a wicked-looking Remington 1100 12-gauge tactical shotgun. "Right," said the one with the assault rifle, "Someone said there was a party?"

Then all hell broke loose.

The assassins _all_ drew their weapons and started firing at the two new arrivals. The man with the shotgun ducked down behind the Audi, briefly emerging to fire off two rounds. One assassin flew backwards. The other man with the M-4 sprinted across the gap, sliding to a halt beside an astonished Michael and Jake. "Greetings," he said with a smile.

"What the…who the hell are you guys?" Michael stuttered.

"We're with Dradle Industries," the man replied. Reaching into his suit, he withdrew two M9 Berettas and handed one each to Michael and Jake. "You can call me Rocky, and my compatriot is Bullwinkle."

Michael snorted as he flicked the safety on the Beretta. "Yeah right." He looked over at the Audi, where 'Bullwinkle' was still pinned down by the assassins fire. The man known only as 'Rocky' spoke into a wrist-mounted microphone. "Jordan, you there?"

"_Coming back now," _Michael heard faintly. Suddenly, the man with the Remington broke cover, heading for the group by the box-stack. As he did so, the assassins move forward, firing as they went. Four of them took cover behind the Audi R8. 'Bullwinkle' produced a remote from his pocket and smiled. "Fire in the hole!" With that, he pressed a button on the remote. Instantly, the Audi's security system activated. Gas was vented from vents in the bottom of the car. Then, in a flash, the gas ignited, sending out huge fireballs from the side of the sports-car. The four assassins around the car were instantly alight. Yelling at the top of their lungs, they ran out of the hanger and threw themselves into the water. The five remaining assassins fell back. One of the assassins climbed onto the main deck of the _Seawolf Hunter_ and drew two grenades from his belt. "Up yours Merkenson!" With that, the assassin pulled the pins and dropped the grenades through an open inspection hatch. The dull _boom_ of the double detonations mixed with Michael's roar of rage as he leapt out from cover, firing his Beretta. Two more assassins took hits to their shoulders. The assassin leader barked an order to his men, and they started moving back towards a side door. The one who had dropped the grenades into the hull was the last one to get close. He turned and raised his middle finger to the group at the other end of the hanger…just in time to be smacked in the head by the large wrench as it arced through the air in a brilliant shot by Jake. The other four assassins had vanished out the door, leaving behind their dead and the guy who had been knocked out. Michael ran towards the out-cold assassin and ripped off the assassin's mask. "Karandos," he snarled, recognising the man beneath. Several metres away, Jake scrambled up onto the _Seawolf Hunter_'s hull. As he looked through the hatch, his face fell.

Outside, the four remaining assassins outside fled the battle. Their leader led them around the corner to where their escape Humvee was supposed to be waiting…only there was nothing. The four assassins looked about them in shock. Then, a faint whistling sound could be heard, growing quickly louder. The assassins dived for cover as their escape Humvee suddenly fell from the sky, slamming into the ground and smashing into pieces. No sooner had the assassins re-gathered their senses than spotlights from overhead lit them up, while the roar of jet engines rang out. A huge black shape moved overhead; the source of the light and sound. A slightly digitised woman's voice rang out from the black shape. _"Hiya lads! Spotted your getaway vehicle and decided to have a little fun with it."_ Twin Avenger miniguns suddenly sprouted from the shape. _"Now, you all drop your weapons and put your hands up, alright?"_

The assassin leader looked at his three men. Two of them looked back at him. The third raised his MP-5, let out a loud battle-yell and opened fire. The twin Avenger miniguns spun and opened up. A second later, what was left of the assassin could be picked up with a sponge. The other three assassins all dropped their guns and raised their arms.

In the hanger, the four looked up at the sound of gunfire. 'Rocky' instantly raised his watch to his mouth. "Dee-Dee, what's going on out there?"

Michael faintly heard the reply from the man's ear-piece. _"Well Commander, I've got good news and I've got bad news. The good news is, you have people to interrogate. The bad news is, there's one less than there was a minute ago…which could actually be good news," _the voice said brightly.

'Rocky' shook his head in exasperation. "All right. I'm going to ignore the fact that you disobeyed orders in showing up. I'll be out there in a second." He looked over at his partner as the distant sounds of police sirens began to close in. "Jordan, you got it all under control?"

'Bullwinkle' looked over from where he stood on the hull of the _Seawolf Hunter_. "As much as we can." He then joined Michael and Jake as they looked through the inspection hatch at the mangled electronics within.

_Seawolf Hunter_ was effectively brain-dead.


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Eighteen

Melanie was up early the next morning. Making her way through the hotel, she arrived at the door to Michael's room. She knocked twice. Jake appeared at the door. "Hey. I heard what happened."

Jake nodded, then opened the door. Inside, Michael sat on the couch, a cup of coffee set on the table before him. On the plasma TV, a news report played, concerning the arrest of Steve Karandos on charges of sabotage. Melanie looked over at the table, which was a mass of paperwork. She walked across the lounge, leaned over the back of the couch and hugged Michael. "There was nothing else you could have done."

Michael sighed. "I've canvassed every one of our suppliers. No one can get us the parts that we need in time to be ready for the finals at the end of the week."

"What about other suppliers?" Melanie was stunned.

"No show. Everyone else refuses to send us parts." Michael flopped back on the couch. "Methinks that the Company has been at work."

"Makes sense," Jake said from the kitchen. "Seaworthy Systems, who provided all the parts for our turbine, had plenty of parts two days ago. No way that they've sold out."

Michael chuckled quietly. "The irony of it is that the majority of the parts are no longer manufactured anyway. The original parts from 1995 just aren't manufactured anymore, and Dradle Industries expended all of their parts getting the boat running in the first place."

Melanie nodded and sat down on the couch beside Michael. "So what are you going to do?"

"Well, there's nothing that can be done." Michael sat up and looked her in the eye. "Without those parts, the boat won't run. Simple as that."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Jake went over and opened the door. In burst Admiral Bickerson, his cane tapping against the wooden kitchen floor. "What on earth are you two still doing here?"

Michael got to his feet. "Sir, there's no parts left. We can't get the _Seawolf Hunter_ working before the finals in three days time."

The glaring admiral crossed the floor and began rapping Michael about the shins with his cane. "That is not how your father would have fixed this." In between each word, he swiped Michael's shins again.

Michael leapt onto the couch. "Well what else is there? The parts are gone."

Bickerson stopped. "You haven't been to your hanger for the past few hours, have you?"

"No," Michael said cautiously.

Bickerson grinned slyly. "Come on. My car's waiting outside."

A half-hour later, the car pulled up in front of the Team SeaMasters hanger. Police tape still stretched over the small door, as well as over the cargo door that the Audi has smashed through. Admiral Bickerson led the way, ducking under the tape, with Michael, Melanie and Jake trailing in his wake. Inside the hanger, the remains of the battle the night before were still scattered around the place, including the burn-marks from the Audi's fiery defence. Michael glanced around, then stopped dead. In the shadow of the damaged _Seawolf Hunter_, a large pile of boxes sat. Michael and Jake charged over to them. "What the…how…who…" Michael was lost for words. He sat down heavily in front of the box-stack.

Jake picked up a clipboard sitting on the stack. A letter fell out. Handing the letter to Michael, he looked through the manifest. "Infrared processors, carbon conduction chips, TMA hardware…" He looked up. "It's all here. All the parts that we need. And then some."

Michael opened the letter and read it:

_Dear Mr Merckenson_

_Please find enclosed all the parts that you should need in order to get the Seawolf Hunter back online. Some of the parts are a bit more up-to-date than their originals, but the rest are compatible with your systems._

_I mentioned to you back in Miami that I was there when your father saved all those people by colliding with the out-of-control boat. What I neglected to tell you was that on that fateful day, I was actually in the crowd. One of the pieces from the other boat hit me in the chest, puncturing a lung. Your father used his jacket in order to plug the hole. This action saved my life, and as such, I am now repaying that debt._

_I shall see you in San Francisco._

As Michael finished reading, Jake shouted. "Woah man, these are parts from the _Hydra_!"

Michael simply handed the letter to Jake. After a minute, Jake looked up at Michael. "I told you that your dad was a good bloke."

"Damn straight." Michael got to his feet and looked up at the _Seawolf Hunter_. "Right. We've got three days. Let's get to work."


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Nineteen

San Francisco. Constantly referred to as the 'City By The Bay', mostly because it is a city placed on San Francisco Bay. It is also the city that would host the final race of the Naval Royale.

Michael walked through the C-130 Hercules as it flew towards San Francisco Bay. Up ahead, the _Seawolf Hunter_ sat in its transport cradle, all inspection panels open as Jake and several technicians worked on the vessel. "How's it looking?" Michael shouted up.

Jake poked his head up through an open hatch. "Well," he said, "all of the _Hydra_ components are actually fitting in nicely. It's almost as if they were intended to go in. Combined with the parts that Dradle Industries managed to fly out, I reckon we're going to be ready for tomorrow."

Michael grinned and gave his friend a thumbs-up. "Super." He turned as Admiral Bickerson approached, holding a folder. "We're going to be ready sir."

Bickerson nodded seriously. "Good, because I've just received word from our Intelligence office. They've released the list of distinguished guests that are going to be at the final fight."

"Oh?" Michael accepted the offered folder and opened it. His eyes grew wide at the list. "CEO Lockheed-Martin, CEO Raytheon…jeez, the Vice-President…" He looked up at Bickerson. "Precisely the guys who decide where the contracts go."

"Quite." Bickerson looked up at the _Seawolf Hunter_ as it towered overhead. "As a precaution, we're going to provide you with some slightly better ammo than you've had before."

"Fair enough," Michael said. "With any luck, we'll be able to bring down the Company once and for all."

"Too right," the admiral said. "Too right."

Three hours later, the Hercules touched down at San Francisco International airport. As the _Seawolf Hunter_ was loaded onto a truck to be taken to the waterfront, Michael watched from beside the cargo plane. Jake came up behind him. "What's on your mind buddy?"

Michael let his breath whistle out between teeth. "I just can't help but think. The events that are probably going to take place tomorrow…they've been fifteen years in the making. And after all this time, it comes down to this."

Jake nodded slowly. "Yeah, they have." He reached into his bag. "That reminds me. When I was fitting some components for the boosters, I found a small panel that had been loosened by the explosion. I opened it, and found this." He handed Michael a small DVD, upon which the words _For Michael_ were written in black marker pen. "It appears to be undamaged from the attack, so it should work."

Michael took the disc. "Thanks man. I'll have a look at it later on."

Jake clapped his friend on the shoulder "Righto. I'm going to follow these guys and make sure that all goes well at the hanger. I'll see you at the meeting tonight, yeah?"

"Will do." Michael watched as Jake got into the passenger side of the truck and the 18-wheeler drove off. He tensed as an arm slithered around his waist, then relaxed as he recognised the arm. "Hey." He turned to face Melanie, who stood behind him. After a brief peck on the lips, the two watched as the truck drove off. "So, is it all ready to go?" Melanie asked.

"As far as we can figure." Michael turned to her. "You know, I'm incredibly hungry. How about we go and get something to eat?"

An hour later, the two were entrenched in a coffee bar, engaging in a lively debate concerning broadcasting. The bar was nearly empty, with only two other partons and the barista in the room, so the debate was vigorous. "Oh come on," Melanie scoffed. "There's no way that FOX can spring back from cancelling its three most popular shows."

"Yeah, but…" Michaels voice trailed off as a figure came through the door and sat down in their booth with them. "So," Carlos McHarris said, "You refused to take my advice."

"What advice?" Melanie snapped back. "You tried to kill us and dump our bodies out of a plane from thirty-thousand feet!"

"Ah yes, but the key word in that sentence is 'tried'." McHarris smiled slyly. "I will congratulate you though Mr Merckenson. I never anticipated that Dradle Industries would have maintained the _Seawolf Hunter_ in operational condition."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you plan ahead," Michael growled. "I'm assuming that you're here for the finals."

"Of course." McHarris accepted a latte that was brought to him by one of the staff. "There would be no excuse for not being present at the Company's final triumph."

Michael's eyes hardened. "And you know that I'll be here to stop you."

McHarris sipped at his latte and chuckled. "Of course you're going to try." He stood and picked up his coffee. "The question is, are you sure that all who are actually beside you are actually all on your side?"

Michael froze. McHarris chuckled again. "Enjoy your coffee Mr Merckenson, for you will not be enjoying many more."

The two watched as the Company leader left the coffee bar. As he did so, the other two customers, men in dark suits, walked away from the bar and approached them. "Mr Merckenson, Miss Griffith, we would appreciate it if you would come with us so that we don't make a scene."

Michael looked up at the two assassins. "So you don't want to do this here then?"

The first assassin glared down at him. "We'd prefer not to."

Michael grimaced, looked down into his coffee, then looked up at the second assassin. "You like coffee man?"

"Not really my cup of tea," the second assassin said.

"Oh." Michael looked down at his coffee again. "Pity."

What happened next happened exceedingly quickly.

Michael tossed his coffee mug into the air. The two assassins watched as it rose to about a metre off the table. As they watched, Michael spun in his seat, lifting his legs above the table. Lashing out with his left foot, he sent the coffee mug rocketing towards the second assassin like a guided missile. The mug slammed into the man's face, spilling the hot coffee all over him. The second assassin yelled and covered his face. Michael, for his part, pushed off his chair and threw a punch at the first assassin's face. The punch connected, and the assassin was out like a light. Michael then ducked as the second assassin picked up a wooden chair and swung. The strike missed, allowing Michael to duck inside the arc and elbow the bad guy in the face. His nose a mess, the second assassin dropped the chair and backed off…straight into the strike zone of Melanie's chair as she shoved herself backwards, knocking the assassin off-balance. Michael leapt forward, planting a flying double-kick into the centre of the man's chest. The assassin flew backwards over the bar, out for the count. Michael strode over to the bar and looked down at the assassin. "You really should try it some time." Then, leaving some bank-notes on the counter for the shocked barista, he escorted Melanie outside.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Twenty

The new day dawned in San Francisco. The day of the Naval Royale finals

Michael sipped at his coffee as he ran through the final diagnostics for the _Seawolf Hunter_ on his laptop. Everything seemed to be in order. He chuckled. Jake and the techs from Dradle Industries had pulled off a minor miracle in getting the vessel ready in time. He took another sip, then reached for his backpack. As he pulled it over, the disc that Jake had found clattered to the floor. Michael picked it up, frowned. Then, curious, he opened his laptops' DVD drive and put in the disc. The laptop whirred as the disc spun up. Then, the screen went to black as the DVD player started up. Michael got up to get more coffee. Suddenly, he turned as a familiar voice emerged from the speakers.

"_Heya champ."_

The image of a man was in the centre of the screen. To his shock, Michael recognised the man. Out of the LCD screen, and over fifteen years of time, Charles Merckenson looked out at him.

"_It's been a long time, I know, but I'm here to pass on a few things."_

Michael sat down in front of the laptop and gazed at the screen. His father looked exactly as he has on the day that Michael had last seen him. There were even a few scratches on his faces from the _Seawolf Hunter_ crash. _"Now, if you're watching this, then I am unfortunately no longer with you. And for that, I'm sorry. But I know that there will have been people who will have taken care of you and your mother, and I know that you will have grown into the person I always knew that you could be."_

Behind Michael, the door opened and Jake walked through with a file. "I've got the track layout," he said cheerfully."

"Quiet damnit!" Jake looked up from the file and saw his friend watching the screen. Pulling up a chair, he watched too as Charles went on.

"_Now, if the Seawolf Hunter is back in action, then it can only mean that you're up against the Company. These guys are bad news champ, and you're going to have to be on your toes to beat them."_ The image smiled. _"So it just so happens that there's a little something in the Seawolf Hunter that will give you an edge."_

"_In the secondary programming of the Booster software, there is a file titled 'c014/9'. When the time is right, open this file. The programme will do the rest."_ On the screen, Charles smiled. _"Just be patient with it."_

Michael instantly windowed the DVD player and brought up the programme. "There it is." On the screen, a ZIP file entitled 'c014/9' was located in the secondary programming.

"_Now, Michael,"_ Charles continued, _"I know that you can defeat these guys. I have faith in you, and I'll be watching from wherever I am. Good luck, and send my love to your mother."_ He smiled again. _"Goodbye son."_ With that, the DVD stopped. As Michael ejected the disc, the DVD disintegrated as soon as the sunlight hit it. Michael and Jake looked at each other. "So that was your dad," Jake said.

"Yup." Michael glanced back at the computer and the highlighted file. "That was him."

Jake nodded. "Nice guy."

Michael nodded back and smiled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, he is."

Two hours later, the stands at strategic positions around San Francisco Bay were full to capacity as the crowd waited in anticipation of the final battle. The entire bay buzzed with excitement as the tension began to build. At the warehouses, the crews of the few remaining vessels engaged in their final checks. Michael ran another diagnostic on the _Seawolf Hunter_'s main gun. The status came up green, as it had the other four times. Michael grimaced, and ran a diagnostic on the forward machine guns. As he did so, he heard a chuckle. "Final nerves, eh?" He turned to see Kurt Rickardson behind him. Michael smiled. "Yeah. I just can't believe that I'm actually here, at the finals."

"Fair enough." Kurt looked over Michael's shoulder. "So you managed to get her in the water. Good one."

"Yeah." Michael grinned. "Thanks for all the parts. We couldn't have done anything without them."

"No need to thank me." Kurt turned to go. "I mean, as a very wise man once said, the one who never races, never wins." With that, Kurt walked off down the waterfront. Michael pondered the words of his father, then returned to the diagnostics, smiling.

At midday, the warning klaxons on every stand around the harbour blared. The assembled crowds cheered as the image of Mr Stophanes appeared on the screens. "Ladies and gentlemen," his voice blared from every speaker, "welcome to the Naval Royale 2010 finals!" The crowd roared as Stophanes smiled for the cameras. "Now, for those who haven't attended this event before here's how it works…"

In the _Seawolf Hunter_ control booth, Michael took a final look around on his cameras. Beside him, Jake turned up the radio that had been tuned in to the radio commentary of the event. As the two ran through their final checks, they listened as Stophanes explained the situation. _"Each competitor begins at a randomly selected point somewhere in the bay. They then need to make their way to seven checkpoints in any order, engaging each other along the way. Once they've reached the seven points, the finish line is revealed. However, once the finish line is crossed, then the first two boats to make it will engage in a one-on-one duel to determine the winner!"_

Jake groaned. "More welding? Argh."

Michael laughed. "Hey, you're assuming that we're going to need it."

"We always end up need it," came the muffled reply as Jake buried his face in his hands.

The crowds cheering built to a fever-pitch as the one minute countdown began. As the crowd grew louder, Melanie sat down in the press box with her bodyguard. "Alright," she said to herself, "this is it. Good luck Michael."

As the clock counted down the final ten seconds, the crowd counted down with it. All around San Francisco Bay, thousands of voices chanted down. "THREE…TWO…ONE…GO!" As they reached 'Go' the klaxons blared again, and the fight was on.


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Twenty-One

_Seawolf Hunter_ immediately leapt up on plane, skimming across the surface of the water at 45 knots. While Michael followed the course he had marked for the nearest checkpoint, Jake kept an eye on the engines. "All green across the board." He then glanced over at his laptop. "No interference either. Good clean signal."

Michael nodded as the first checkpoint came into sight. "Get ready to download the code from this checkpoint." As the vessel came within ten metres of the buoy floating in the bay, its onboard computer accessed the buoys system. "Code downloading now," Jake reported. "Give me fifteen seconds."

"Download faster," Michael called back as the water on the port side erupted. Through the spray, Michael caught sight of another boat, the name on the bow reading _Nautilus III_. "Crap." His hands flickered out across the buttons. _Seawolf Hunter_ slewed around and opened fire with its forward machine-guns. Impact sparks flared all across the front of the _Nautilus III_, which went dead in the water. "Man, that new ammo is wicked," Jake remarked, following up with, "download complete. Six more to go."

Michael grinned as he locked in a course for the next checkpoint. "So far, so good."

Out in the harbour, several motorboats hovered at the edge of the track. In one corner of the bay, a large super-yacht, the _Circe_, lay at anchor. Onboard, a party was underway, as the VIPs invited to watch the race drank champagne and mingled as the fight went on out on the water. In one corner of the main saloon, Carlos McHarris looked at his watch. Saying farewell to the wife of the Raytheon CEO, he made his way to the stern of the yacht. Then, descending a stairway, he entered the bilge area. "Are we ready?"

The space in front of him had been converted into a computer node-point, with the very best in computing hardware set up. Indeed, the reason that the section was so deep in the hull was that the heat from the computer was directly heat-sinked out through the hull into the water. At the main console, a technician looked up. "Ready sir."

"Good," McHarris smirked. "Engage jamming. It's time that we announced ourselves."

"Yes sir." The head technician barked a series of orders to his cohorts. Seconds later, an invisible electronic wave radiated out from the _Circe_, engulfing the harbour and all of the Naval Royale boats on it.

"Woah!" Jake recoiled at a graph on his laptop slammed into life. "We've got massive interference!" He did a swift double-take. "It's the Calypso signal again! Same as with the _Oceanic Challenger_, but way stronger!"

"No kidding!" Switching his concentration from rounding the fifth checkpoint, Michael released the controls. To his shock, the _Seawolf Hunter_ continued on, suddenly turning _left_. "I've lost control!" Michael yelled in surprise. Over the radio channels, other drivers blared their shock as their own vessels went out of control. Michael watched in horror as two of the boats collided in the distance and erupted into fireballs. "Jake, where's the signal coming from?"

"I don't know," Jake yelled, typing maniacally on his laptop. "All I know is that it's overriding everything." He looked up at his friend. "The entire fleet, all seven boats are doing whatever they please!"

Michael's face hardened. "McHarris. It's got to be the Company!" Suddenly, it dawned on him. "Jeez, the crowds, those execs…they're going to do it again. They're going to redo the '95 crash, but on a far larger scale."

Jake glared at his laptop, then slammed his fist down. "I can't regain control. My system just doesn't have that sort of power."

Michael looked down at his useless controls, then up at the roof. "So what do we do now Dad…" he whispered to the ceiling.

In the press box, Melanie watched on the massive split-screen as the fleet went wild. All around her, fellow reporters were making reports to the crowd as they sat in their seats, waiting for news. She watched as the camera focused in briefly on the _Seawolf Hunter_ as it slalomed across the bay. "Come on Michael," she whispered. "You can do this…"

Suddenly, Michael's eyes snapped back into focus. "Jake, do we still have any kind of connection to the _Seawolf Hunter_? Anything at all?"

Jake typed furiously for a moment. Then, "Yeah, an incredibly weak one, but it's there. Enough to operate sensors and stuff. What do you want to do?"

Michael grinned. "Open the Boosters secondary programming."

Jake looked on, confused. Then it hit him. "Your father's programme…"

He quickly opened the file, scanned through it. Seconds later, his cursor came to rest on ZIP file 'c014/9'. "Are you sure?"

Michael exhaled, nodded. "Initiate file 'c014/9'."

Jake double-clicked on the file. The unzip application started. Then, abruptly, as the file opened, scores of data flickered across the screen. "It's doing something crazy."

Abruptly, the speakers crackled. Then, a voice rang out. _"What the…who the hell are you?"_

Michael and Jake looked at each other. "Who are we? Who are you?"

The voice turned nasty _"I am the Systematic Tangent Artificial Network, otherwise known as Stan. Now, where's Cobra?"_

Michael spoke up. "Cobra… I mean Charles Merckenson, is no longer here. I'm Michael Merckenson."

The voice was silent for a moment. _"Ah yes, I remember now. You're Cobra's kid. You'll have to excuse me, the ol' memory chips aren't as sharp as they used to be."_

Jake leaned towards the console. "So, who exactly are you?"

"_Well, I'm an artificial intelligence built into the operating system of the Seawolf Hunter by Charles Merckenson,"_ Stan replied. _"I was made dormant in 1995, but now I'm back in action, apparently. So, what's up?"_

Michael sat back in his chair. The revelation that his father had developed a fully-functional AI back in 1995 was a stunner. But he quickly regained focus. "Stan, the _Seawolf Hunter_ is out of control. It's being controlled by another source somewhere nearby. Can you regain control?"

"_Stand by."_ Several seconds passed as Stan reacquainted itself with the _Seawolf Hunter_'s systems. Then…_"Done. I've flicked the frequencies around so that the incoming jammer doesn't do anything."_

Michael and Jake looked up at the screen as the power dials returned to normal and the _Seawolf Hunter_ slowly coasted to a halt. _"Hey, guys,"_ the AI continued, _"this signal matched my records as being from a certain terrorist group. The Company."_

"That's be correct Stan," Jake replied. "so there's six more boats out there that are going to crash into the crowds and kill without mercy."

Stan was silent for a moment. _"I've been in this situation before. We have to stop this."_

"Damn straight," Michael nodded. "So let's get to work."

As the _Seawolf Hunter_ slewed around and headed back into the fight, the distinctive axe-bladed deck gun emerged. _Seawolf Hunter_ was going in, fangs out.

On the _Circe_, McHarris smirked as his plan swept into motion. The controllers in front of him drove the seven boats onwards to their fateful collisions. Suddenly, one of the controllers swore. "I've lost the _Seawolf Hunter_!"

"What?!" McHarris was there in a second, a stunned look on his face. "How?"

"I don't know," the controller stammered. "One moment the lock was fine, the next I was shut out."

McHarris raised himself to full-height and glared. "Merckenson," he snarled. Turning to the other controllers, he roared out his instructions. "Continue to your targets. There's nothing that bucket of bolts can do anyway."

Out on the harbour, the aforementioned 'bucket of bolts' was scorching across the water at full speed. In the control booth, Michael drove like a demon, while Jake talked to Stan. _"I've got bad news guys,"_ the AI said. _"Turns out some of my links can't be re-established. I've only got influence on TMA and Boosters."_ He was silent for a moment. _"That said, I can increase the output of the boosters and the TMA accuracy by about 90, so you'll be able to go places fast and shoot stuff up pretty accurate when you get there."_

"It'll do," Jake said. Looking over at Michael, he raised his eyebrows. "So, what shall we do?"

"Easy," Michael said as the speeding boat caught a wave and leaped into the air before splashing down and rocketing on. "We get to within the new maximum range and we blow away each boat as it comes within range."

"Fair enough," Jake responded as the water on the port side abruptly erupted in spray. Off to the left, a competitor was closing in. Jake zoomed in with his camera. "It's the _Argo II_," he said.

"Not for long." Michael grinned. "Load up one of them new shells that the admiral provided."

Jake rapidly typed on his laptop, sending the signal to the main gun to change out the original load-out and to bring the new shells online. With that done, he switched to fire-control and took aim at the speeding boat. "Ready. You know anything about these shells anyway?"

"Not a clue," Michael said. "Fire."

Jake pulled the trigger. Sixteen miles away, the deck gun on the _Seawolf Hunter _roared. The shell fired out at blitzing speed, flying for little less than a second before slamming into the oncoming vessel. Abruptly, the bow of the _Argo II_ ceased to exist in a blinding flash. Both Michael and Jake watched in shock as the remainder of the vessel flipped out of control, disintegrating as it smeared itself across the water. "Woah. Bet the original _Argo_ never had _that_ happen," Jake whispered in awe.

Michael nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I'd go along with that."

In the press box, Melanie watched as the Team SeaMasters boat sent its attacker to the great scrapyard in the sky. The crowd, unaware of the situation, roared as the _Seawolf Hunter_ charged on. Melanie couldn't help but grin as the scoreboard crossed out one of the vessels. Only five remained.

Michael activated the boosters as the _Seawolf Hunter_ began to home in on its prey. With the enhanced booster function upgraded by Stan, the boosters took the vessel beyond its normal top speed, closing rapidly on 90 knots. A rooster-tail of spray rose to twice the height of the vessel as it screamed across San Francisco Bay, closing on its next target. On the targeting optics, the destination came into sight. "It's the _SeaDragon_ and the _Orca_," Jake read off the screen. "Two thousand metres ahead."

"Roger." Michael set an intercept course as the distance closed to a little over a kilometre. Suddenly, the _Seadragon _split from the formation and charged, firing its forward machine-guns. Michael engaged his own forward guns as the two vessels raced towards each other, closing at a phenomenal rate. Then, the _SeaDragon_ deployed its boosters and began what was instantly recognisable as a suicide run in on the closing Team SeaMasters vessel. "Watch it man," Jake called in warning."

"I can't turn at this speed," Michael yelled. "It's flip!"

The distance closed between the two vessels as if it were nothing. Then, suddenly, _SeaDragon_ shattered from within, exploding into very small pieces. _Seawolf Hunter_ blew through the wreckage, emerging on the other side. Michael and Jake looked at each other. "Who the…" Then, Michael brought up the starboard camera. There, not a hundred metres away, keeping perfect echelon formation, was the _Hydra_, burning across the waves with the same meteoric speed as the _Seawolf Hunter_. As if it knew that he was watching, _Hydra_ flashed its navigation lights. Michael beamed, then focused his attention on the _Orca_, which had lit off its boosters and was trying to accelerate away. At a range of half a kilometre, the main gun of the _Seawolf Hunter_ roared, and the _Orca_ was engulfed in a fireball a full kilometre from the crowd. Still in formation, _Hydra_ and _Seawolf Hunter_ swept around the sixth checkpoint and powered off towards the last three boats.

Out beyond the Golden Gate Bridge, another vessel lurked. Having circled for the past few hours at the entrance to the harbour, the warship had inspected several ships, but found nothing wrong. Now, Admiral Bickerson was getting restless. "Get Mr Merckenson on the line." Seconds later, the call was connected. "Michael, what's happening in there?"

"_The Company's making its move,"_ Michael said. _"The boats are all out of control. We've got the Seawolf Hunter on the case, and the Hydra's helping out as well. What we really need is for you guys to get in here and find where the jamming signal is coming from."_

"Right. We're on the way," Bickerson growled, terminating the connection. He turned to the man standing beside him. "Commander, if you would, we have an appointment in the harbour."

"Aye sir." The man turned to the rest of the bridge crew. " Helm, bring us around to one-zero-four degrees, and take us up to flank. And if you wouldn't mind, don't hit the bridge as we go through."

"Aye aye skipper," the helmsman said, spinning the wheel and sliding the throttles forward. The warship leaned out of its turn and headed towards the harbour at full speed.

At the same time, _Seawolf Hunter_ and_ Hydra_ sped past Alcatraz Island, homing in like a pair of falcons upon their prey. As they went, Stan spoke up. _"So gentlemen, once we destroy these guys, what then?"_

"Well, by that point, Admiral Bickerson will hopefully have a lock on the jamming," Jake said. "With that, we can home in on them, and take the Company down like…"

With a loud _bang_, the door of the control booth burst open and several men in black balaclavas burst in. "FBI! Down! Down!" Michael and Jake were dragged from their seats and thrown to the ground. "What's going on?" Michael roared.

Another FBI agent stepped through the door. "Michael Merckenson, Jake Delsio, you are both under arrest for suspected terrorist links. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say…"

"What?!" Michael tried to get to his feet, but was shoved down by one of the agents. "We're not running an attack, we're trying to prevent one!"

"A likely story," the agent snorted. "Take them away boys."

Michael attempted to wiggle free as the agents around him hauled his to his feet. One agent sent a punch into his gut, which sent Michael back down onto the floor. As the agent bent to pick him up again, his badge fell to the floor in front of Michael. Attracted by the movement, Michael looked up at it. His face went as blank as the badge he was looking at. "Jake, they're fakes!"

"They are? Oh good." With that, Jake flipped his legs up and shoved off the wall, sending the two fake FBI agents holding him flying. At the same time, Michael spun on the floor, wiping the legs out from under the agent that had dropped his badge. He then used the momentum to flip himself upwards and onto his feet, in front of the other two agents who were still standing. Behind him, Jake took down his two agents with twin uppercuts to the jaw. The two remaining fake agents looked at each other, then at the two gents in front of them, ready for a fight. The agents attacked. Jake took one with an elbow to the face, while Michael simply picked up a chair and smashed it over the head of the lead agent. Seconds later, Naval Royale security arrived at the door. "We heard your alarm…" said one, before looking at the sprawling forms before. 'Looks like I could've finished that coffee after all."

"Take them and hold them. Dradle Industries will be doing the interrogation," Michael said, returning to his console. "Cheers anyway."

As the security guys took away the fake agents, Jake brought up his radar display. "Stan's held us on course," he reported, "and the _Hydra_'s still with us. Two kilometres to intercept."

On board the _Circe_, McHarris walked the aisles between the consoles. Working furiously, the three controllers whose boats had not been destroyed tried to eck out every molecule of horsepower, every knot of speed from the boats that they had commandeered, homing in on their target; the main stands. The range closed to within seven kilometres, McHarris smiled. "Send the second jamming signal."

"Yes sir," replied a technician. "Secondary jamming signal engaged."

Jake swore as his targeting systems suddenly flickered and died. "Damnit! Stan, what's happening?"

"_The Company are broadcasting another signal,"_ the AI replied. _"This one, even I can't burn through."_

"So that means our forward guns are out of action then?" Michael grunted as the _Seawolf Hunter_ took a wave and bounced briefly skyward, with the _Hydra_ in close formation.

"Correct. The rear harpoon is radar-guided, so you're still good on that. But you're going to have to find another way to defeat these last three…speaking of which, one has changed course towards us."

Michael looked up at his forward cameras. Up ahead, a small dot began to grow in the centre of the screen. Twin pinpoints of light lashed out from the incoming boat as it opened fire. The bullets glanced of the _Seawolf Hunter_'s forward armour. Michael grinned. "Banzai!" The distance closed until, brutally, the _Seawolf Hunter_ simply _plowed_ through its opponent, taking the top of the hull off and destroying the vital antenna that allowed control. The opponent coasted to a halt as the _Seawolf Hunter_ thundered on. Suddenly, Michael's phone began to ring. He scooped it up. "Yeah?"

Cruising under the Golden Gate Bridge, Admiral Bickerson was on the other end of the line. "Michael, we're inbound to your location. But we're having a degree of difficulty locating the signal. It's going to take some time."

"_Well, we've got two boat left to eliminate, so we might just be able to make it,"_ Michael responded.

"Good man. Charles would be proud," the admiral nodded before cutting the connection. He turned to the vessel's captain, who was flicking through the various menus on a nearby console. "Any luck?"

"Not yet," the captain replied. "This is a new type of signal I've never seen."

"Well, you'd better crack it, or your yacht become _my_ yacht," Bickerson said with a grin.

Back in the control booth, Michael continued to close the distance while Jake spoke on the phone. Jake looked up. "Kurt wants to know how you want to play this."

Michael thought it over. "We'll take the _Seahawk_. He can do the _Raptor_."

"Sweet." Jake relayed the instructions. Seconds later, the starboard camera showed the _Hydra_ peeling off. Less than a hundred metres ahead ahead, the two AWOL boats thundered over the waves. The distance to the crowd was less than three kilometres. "So, how do we do this?"

Michael grinned. "Remember how the harpoon is radar-guided?"

"Yeah?"

"We use that to hold, and then…I haven't thought that far ahead." Suddenly, a huge eruption burst from the sea off the starboard bow. In the midst of the boiling foam, Michael could see the _Raptor_ shredding itself in the explosion, while the _Hydra_ blew clear. "Sea mines. Nice one." Then, suddenly, inspiration hit. Michael jammed hard to port on the controls. _Seawolf Hunter_ heeled over in the turn and began to head off at an angle from the last out-of-control boat. "What are you doing man?" Jake yelled in shock.

"Trust me. This is going to be totally awesome."

On board the _Circe_, McHarris watched as the grandstands grew bigger in the forward camera of the last remaining boat, the _Seahawk_. "You fail again Merckenson," he muttered through his grin.

The driver in control of the boat also grinned. At less than two hundred metres, the panicking spectators could be seen, trying to claw their way out of their seats. But it was too late. The oncoming boat was upon them as it began to cross the last hundred metres.


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Twenty-Two

What happened next was a blur.

A grey shape _screamed _across in front of the runaway's bow. Half a second later, the view was violent yanked left. McHarris gripped the driver by his shoulder. "What the…" Then, suddenly, the view changed. Its engines at full power and the water behind it beaten into foam, the _Seawolf Hunter_ pulled like a tugboat against a freighter, connected by its harpoon cable. The same harpoon that was now embedded deep in the hull of _Seahawk_. McHarris roared with anger. "Break clear!"

The driver jammed forward on the throttles and tried to turn away, but the harpoon was buried deep and the _Seawolf Hunter_ was hauling like a champ. Then, slowly, the distance between the two vessels began to close as the harpoon cable was winched slowly in. Soon, only a metre separated the two vessels, which were at perpendicular angles to one another. Through the port cameras, McHarris watched as twin hatches in the stern of _Seawolf Hunter_'s hull opened and the jet boosters emerged. With a white flash, the engines ignited. The thrust-cones melted through the superstructure of the _Seahawk_ like a sabot round through a block of cheese. Within seconds, the cable burned away and the _Seawolf Hunter_ shot for the harbour, leaving behind it the melted hulk of the last runaway boat.

In the _Seawolf Hunter_ control booth, both Michael and Jake cheered and smacked each other on the back in celebration of the destruction of the runaway fleet. As they clinked two cans of Coke together in celebration together, Stan spoke up. _"Well, if that's all, I might go back to sleep now."_

"No worries Stan. Thanks for the help. It was nice to meet you," Michael replied to the AI.

"_The feeling is mutual_," Stan responded. _"I'm sure that Cobra would be proud. Goodnight gents."_ And with a crackle of static, Stan went offline.

Michael ran a swift diagnostic on the slowing vessel. "No major damage, ammo at 75. Not a bad day's work."

"I'd say." The duo turned to see the figure in the doorway. Kurt Rickardson, driver of the _Hydra_, walked through. The trio all shook hands. "That move with the mines was brilliant, if I might say so," Michael said.

"Thanks. And in return, I have never seen jet boosters employed in a kill like that." Kurt looked at the duo. "Right, the press is most likely going to have a few questions, so how about we head out and have a word?"

"Sounds like a plan." Thus, the trio walked out of the booth.

In the press box, Melanie and the rest of the reporters had cheered as the _Seawolf Hunter_ blew a hole through its last rival. As the scoreboard flashed up a hold signal, various reporters began to get to their feet and head for the control booths in order to get that all-important interview that always follow a near disastrous event. Melanie hung around for a minute, watching the replays of the various kills that _Seawolf Hunter_ and _Hydra_ had notched up. As _Hydra_ blew the _Raptor_ away in slow-motion, she got up as well, with her cameraman/bodyguard behind her. "Come on. Let's go see the guys."

There was no response from the bodyguard. Melanie turned just in time to see the guard flop to the ground. Behind where he had been standing, three men in suits stood. The lead of the suits grinned at her as she recognised the face. His bail paid by the Company, Steven Karandos held a gun in his hand. "Hello Ms Griffith. How nice to see you again."

"The pleasure is all yours, I'm sure," Melanie growled. "What've you done to him?"

"Oh, your protector is going to wake up in a few hours with one hell of a headache. But that's the least of your worries." His eyes took on a darker look. "Move."

Out in the press area, Kurt was speaking to one group of reporters, while Jake was discussing the actions, with hand gestures, to another. But the largest group was around Michael Merckenson, the hero of what was already being labelled 'The Battle Of San Francisco Bay'. Reporters surrounded him from every angle, yelling questions. Michael tried to answer them all, but the noise was overwhelming. But all the time, he kept an eye out for one reporter in particular. His brow furrowed at the lack of any sign of Melanie. Turning to Jake, he raised his eyebrows. Jake shook his head. Now concerned, Michael turned back to the media.

In a nearby parking garage, Melanie was still being escorted away by Karandos and his cronies. "So, now that your bosses mighty plan has failed, why don't you just give up?" Melanie said in a mocking voice.

Karandos responded by shoving the reporter against a nearby Ford. "Your boyfriend's interference hasn't stopped us," he snarled. "It's merely a delay. But fear not. For you, it shall not be a concern for much longer."

Melanie glared at the man before her. Unnoticed by any of the three kidnappers, her hand pressed a button on her cell-phone in her jacket pocket, which began to dial.

Still surrounded by media personnel, Michael felt the cell-phone in his pocket begin to ring. Digging it out, he smiled when he saw the caller ID. Flipping the phone open, he raised it to his ear. "Hey Mel, where are you?"

In the parking garage, Melanie was being pushed towards a waiting Chevrolet Traverse. As she was directed into the interior, she spoke up. "So where are you taking me?"

Karandos smiled. "We're going to take a little sea voyage. And for you, it's going to be a one way trip." With that, as Melanie was climbing into the vehicle, he lashed out with his foot. With a crack, the operating cell-phone in Melanie's pocket was trapped between the foot and the door. "Looks like you've been disconnected."

Out in the media scrum, Michael heard everything. He swore…and charged, ploughing his way through the media. Jake spotted him and followed suit, leaving the confused and slightly angry media behind. "What's going on?" Jake yelled.

"Karandos is out. He's got Melanie," Michael snarled. The duo sprinted for the main building as a grey SUV emerged from the parking building. Michael looked up at it, and saw Melanie's face pressed up against the glass. The Traverse turned a corner at high speed and headed for the main road. Michael swore. "We need a car, now!"

Jake reached into his pockets. "My keys are back in the booth. Give me a minute, I'll go and get…"

With a screech of tyres, a vehicle slid around the corner and stopped in front of the two. The passenger door of the Dodge Viper flew open. "Need a lift?" Kurt Rickardson asked.

Michael grinned. "Yeah, if you don't mind."

"I'll go alert the admiral," Jake said, turning and sprinting back towards the control booth. As he did so, Michael slid into the passenger seat of the Viper. "Gun it."

Kurt nodded and planted the accelerator to the floor. The sports-car leapt off the mark and off in hot pursuit.

Out onboard the _Circe_, McHarris grinned at some terrible joke that the Raytheon CEO made about the recent events. As he did so, his cell-phone went off. Excusing himself, he stepped aside and answered the call. "Yes?"

"_It's Karandos,"_ the caller said. _"We have the girl and are heading for the harbour. Please confirm that the boat will meet us there."_

"Consider it confirmed," McHarris replied.

"_Roger."_ With that, Karandos hung up. McHarris put his phone back in his pocket, he turned back to the Raytheon CEO, bracing himself for another round of terrible jokes.

The traffic heading towards the waterfront was heavy as spectators drove to the Naval Royale Village in order to watch the remaining boats come in. Various SUVs and people carriers made their way down the road to the port. Picking its way through the holes in the traffic was the Dodge Viper, moving at twice the speed of the surrounding vehicles. In the passenger seat, Michael growled with frustration as a Toyota Prius blocked their path. But Kurt, ever cool, simply cut onto the shoulder and overtook the putt-putt hybrid. Within minutes, the sports-car reached the waterfront. Michael looked out to the right while Kurt checked the roads to the left. "There," Michael abruptly barked as he spotted the distinctive Chevy parked down a deserted street. Kurt slid the Viper around so that it blocked the street. Opening the glove compartment, he withdrew two Berretta M9s. Handing one to Michael, he nodded towards the parked SUV. "Let's go get 'em."

The two exited through their separate doors. Guns raised, they made their way from cover to cover, moving ever closer to the parked vehicle, which made no response to the shrinking distance.

They were within twenty metres when it happened.

The Chevy exploded. The shockwave picked up the two armed men and threw them backwards; Kurt landing on the road, Michael going ass-first through the windshield of a Ford Focus. As fire engulfed the Traverse, Michael rolled off the Ford and ran towards the blazing wreckage. "Melanie!" he shouted, but the heat from the fire held him back. Kurt ran up beside him, his left arm covered in blood. He looked into the flames. "I can't see anyone in there," he exclaimed. "Mike, she wasn't in there." Suddenly, Michael's phone began to ring. He drew it and looked at the Caller ID. "It's her," he said, starting to open the phone. A swift hand knocked it from his grasp. "No!" Kurt glared at him. "If you don't answer, they'll think that the bomb got you, which gives us the advantage."

Michael slowly nodded. "So what do we do now?"

"We go back to the village, and we talk to your friend, Admiral Bickerson."

Out on a launch headed towards where the _Circe_ waited, Karandos turned off the device he was using to imitate Melanie's cell-phone. "Well, he's not answering, because he probably can't." He smiled down at Melanie evilly. "I do believe that he's now somewhat…blasted."

"You bastard!" Melanie tried to attack, but was restrained by the two Company men beside her. Karandos laughed. "A fair try, but settle down. You'll be dealt with soon enough."

Back at the village, Jake looked up as Kurt and Michael walked into the control booth. Jake scowled at them. "Damnit, you never tell me when you're going to blow stuff up. Why do _I_ never get to blow stuff up? I wanna blow stuff up."

"And you're about to." The three turned to the figure that had appeared on the screen. Admiral Bickerson. "We've tracked Melanie out across the harbour and onto a yacht that was hanging about for the finals." The admiral's face switched to a window while two video feeds played on the screen beside him. One was a black-and-white security camera shot of Melanie being ushered into a small boat by a man holding a gun. The camera zoomed in on the man's face. "Karandos," Michael snarled.

"Precisely. Now, we watched the boat, and noticed something interesting." The other feed started up, showing the launch heading towards a large super-yacht, the _Circe_, registered to Cydron Industries out of San Diego." As the launch approached, several other launches appeared, heading _away_ from the yacht. "What's with the evac?" Kurt asked.

"We've looked into that, and it appears that all the guests that were invited to the finals party are on those launches." A small 'Real-Time' logo appeared in the top-left corner of the feed. As the three watched, the _Circe_ began to slew around and turn for the open sea. "Right." Michael looked up at the screen and into the eyes of Admiral Bickerson. "We need to get aboard that yacht."

"I thought you might say that," Bickerson grinned. "There's a speedboat at the waterfront waiting for you. You'll find all the gear you need on-board. I'll see what I can do in order to arrange some cover."

"Cheers Admiral." Michael turned to Jake and Kurt. "We gotta get back to the harbour."

Kurt handed over the keys to the Viper. "Good luck lads."

"Cheers. We'll be in touch." With that, Michael and Jake sprinted out of the booth.


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Twenty-Three

Aboard the _Circe_, Carlos McHarris sipped at his drink in the empty saloon. While his guests had not enjoyed being removed, they had all been sent off on the various launches that had been provided. As such, he had only one guest remaining. "So," McHarris said, "we keep running into each other like this Miss Griffith."

In a chair in the centre of the floor, Melanie glared up at the director of the Company. "Well done, you can think. Have a cookie."

McHarris laughed. "You know what, I just think I might. Once, of course, my escape is complete and you are at the bottom of the sea."

"You won't get away with this," Melanie snarled. "The authorities know who you are, and that you were behind this."

"They may, but they've had this information before." McHarris grinned. Suddenly, the intercom beside him buzzed. He pressed the button. "McHarris here."

"_Sir, this is the bridge,"_ the vessel's captain said. _"Radar shows a vessel approaching us from the stern. We may have a situation."_

McHarris frowned. "Then deal with it."

The_ Circe_ powered through the water at thirty knots, heading towards the Golden Gate Bridge and the ocean beyond. Two hundred metres astern, a powerboat blew through the water at forty-five knots, reeling in the distance. In the cockpit, Michael sat in the back, the Beretta that Kurt had given him in a holster at his side. Up front, Jake drove the boat. "You ready?" he shouted back

"Yeah," Michael replied. "Close in and tell the Admiral we're in position."

"Right." As Jake eased the throttles forward, he spoke into the radio mike at his lips. "Admiral, we're in position and ready for the distraction."

"_Roger that,"_ came the reply. _"Stand by for cover_."

On the bridge of the _Circe_, the captain looked down at his radar screen. The blip of the vessel behind them continued to close. He looked forward, seeing how far he was from open sea where he could manoeuvre. As he did so, another crewman stepped up to him. "Your coffee sir"

"Thank you steward." The captain took the cup of coffee and reverted his gaze to the bow. As such, he was looking in the right direction when it happened. A giant mass of bubbles appeared off the starboard bow. The captain goggled for a moment, then barked his order. "Twenty degrees to port!"

As he did so, it happened. From the mass of bubbles, a ship literally _catapulted_ to the surface, launching fully one half of its length clear of the water before _slamming_ back down. As the wave radiated outwards from the sudden arrival, the captain caught a glimpse of the name of the vessel. _Messernacht_. He swore and turned to his crew, raising his voice to drown out the song being blasted out by the new arrival's sound system, Shot Through The Heart by Bon Jovi. "It's Dradle Industries! Get us out of here."

Behind the _Circe_, Michael and Jake watched in awe as an entire destroyer bounded to the surface beside the fleeing super-yacht. "Now _that_," Jake nodded, "was pretty distracting."

"Damn straight," Michael replied. "Go for it."

Jake shoved forward on the throttles, and the powerboat responded with a burst of acceleration. Within seconds, the boat was alongside the _Circe_ as it sped across the water. "Ready?" Jake shouted back.

"Going for it!" Michael roared back, before taking a running leap across the gap, grabbing onto a boarding ladder and climbing aboard. The powerboat sheared off, returning to its original position, albeit with one less passenger.

The captain of the _Circe_ looked to starboard at the destroyer that was beginning to crowd them. "Full speed," he yelled. "Outrun them!"

With a palpable surge of acceleration, the super-yacht began to accelerate to a higher speed. The iron log flicked through the digits as the speed climbed. 35…40…50, finally maxing out at fifty-five knots. But throughout the manoeuvre, the _Messernacht_ was right alongside, matching the super-yacht knot for knot. The captain swore and reached for his radio headset.

Down in one of the corridors, two guards charged through the passageways, their rifles in hand, heading for what they thought might be the beginning of a boarding attempt. The lead guard sprinted by one intersection…and was taken down by a figure that leapt past, slamming him into the wall and out cold. His partner gawked at the figure before him, then tried to raise his rifle. But the figure quickly ducked in and launched a vicious upper-cut into the guards jaw, sending him sprawling beside his partner. Michael looked down at the two. "Hey guys." Then, he continued his dash through the vessel.

In the main cabin, McHarris listened as the captain relayed what was going on. "Alright captain, keep trying to outrun them. I'll record a hostage statement and prepare it for broadcast." He slapped down his headset and glared at Melanie. "It turns out that our friend Mr Merckenson might not be as easily destructible as I first thought."

As Melanie grinned up at him, Karandos entered the saloon. "Sir, some of the guards are not reporting in."

"Then Michael must be aboard." McHarris took a sip of his coffee. "Deal with him."

As Karandos strode off to deal with his foe, McHarris turned to Melanie. "Coffee?"

Michael, for his part, was continuing his dash through the super-yacht. Stopping briefly to consult a diagram mounted on a wall, he sprinted up a ladder, bursting through a doorway and out onto an open weather deck. As he did so, he suddenly had the feeling that someone was behind him. He twisted left, just as a flying kick shot past without connecting. Michael spun. Then in front of him was Steven Karandos. "You just won't quit, will you?" Karandos sneered.

"Don't blame me," Michael chuckled. "You're the one who took Melanie hostage."

"Quite. Pity your pathetic rescue attempt is over." With that, Karandos took two steps back and took up a boxing ready position. "Oh not again," Michael muttered, taking up the stance commonly recognised by the karate expert. The two circled each other for a moment. Then, the fight was on.

Karandos launched in with a right hook, as he had in the bar fight. But this time, Michael was waiting for it. Parrying the blow away with a left chop, Michael swung his right hand in a fast, brutal arc. Karandos dodged, then spun into a spinning kick that connected with Michael's knee, taking the leg out from under him. Michael went down for a second, which Karandos tried to use by aiming another kick for Michael's ribs. But Michael rolled clear, then flipped up onto his feet, before breaking into a series of rapid strikes that sent Karandos stumbling backwards. Michael moved forward, looking for an opportunity to end this fight as soon as possible. But Karandos wanted this fight to go on. Roaring at the top of his lungs, he charged, tackling Michael and sending them both sprawling. Dazed, Michael tried to get up, but Karandos held him down and punched him in the face. "I've been waiting for this," he crowed, sending in another punch. "Ever since the first race, I've been waiting for this." He wound up for the final strike, but as he sent it in, Michael reacted, catching the incoming fist in mid-air. Startled, Karandos tried to back away, but Michaels other hand caught around his wrist, so as Karandos backed up, he pulled Michael up with him. Michael smiled. "You know what Steven? You gotta learn to shut up." With that, Michael shoved Karandos backwards against the rail, took a running jump and sent a flying kick square into Karandos's torso, sending the man flipping over the rail and into the harbour. Michael looked over the rail at the bobbing figure as it floated away. "Hate to put a damper on your day." Then, he turned and sprinted back into the vessel.

McHarris called again on his radio. "Karandos, report it." Silence. He tried again, but the silence always answered him. Swearing, he slammed the radio down. Stepping over to a wall cabinet, he entered in a code onto a keypad. The cabinet slid open, revealing an M-4 Colt Commando assault rifle. Grabbing it and a reload clip, McHarris strode back and hauled Melanie to her feet. "Come on," he snarled. "We're going topside."

Pushing his hostage before him, McHarris and Melanie made their way along a passageway and up a ladder to the bridge. "Report," the Company director barked.

"Sir, the Dradle Industries vessel continues to dog us," the captain reported. "We can't evade it, no matter what we do."

McHarris began to answer, but suddenly spun as a spot of movement outside the bridge windows caught his eye. Holding down the trigger on the M-4, he raked the windows with gunfire, moving in an arc from port to starboard. Unfortunately, this arc of lead passed through all the crewmen present on the bridge. The helmsman's body began to slide out of its seat, twisting the wheel as it did so, sending the _Circe_ on a course towards the rocky cliffs that formed the entrance to San Francisco Bay. McHarris, uncaring, swore softly. "I know you're there Michael!" he roared. "You can't hide from me!" Suddenly, he turned at a sound behind him. There was Michael, caught attempting to pull Melanie from the room. "Surprise," McHarris said.

Michael glared at him. "Give it up Carlos. It's over."

"No it's not!" McHarris pointed the rifle at Michael's nose. "It's over when I say it's over."

"There's no way out," Michael said calmly. "Jake is taking all the data to the FBI. It's all over."

McHarris snorted. "I've been here before. Someone once tried to take data on the Company to the FBI. Maybe you knew him. His name was Charles Merckenson." Michaels face turned to shock. "That's right," McHarris grinned. "Your father tried to bring us down. And he was doing so well too, foiling us back at the crash of '95. Which was why I shot out his brakes on that corner and watched as his car went over the edge of that cliff." McHarris chuckled with the memory. "For you see Michael Merckenson, I killed your father, and in a rather poetic chain of events, I'm going to kill you too. Goodbye." With that, McHarris tightened his grip on the trigger. Then, with a loud _bang_, the world went mad.

"Impact!"

Onboard the _Messernacht_, Admiral Bickerson and the captain of the vessel looked over the sonarman's shoulder. "The _Circe_'s just gone square over that reef sirs," the sonarman said. "For sure that's ripped the bottom out of her. For the record, our draft is too high for us to get in there."

The captain ran his fingers through his hair. "Cripes Admiral," he said, "that yacht is going to sink like a lead-plated brick with that sort of damage."

"Jordan, I think you might be right." Bickerson looked up at the display. "But I think that Michael's got it all under control."

Michael pushed himself off the deck, trying to shake off the shock of the impact. He looked around. Carlos McHarris was on the other side of the bridge, thrown there by the impact. Melanie had hurtled towards the conn, but the body of the captain had cushioned her impact. "Mel, you ok?" Michael called.

Melanie stirred slightly. "Ouch."

Michael smiled, then glared at McHarris. The two looked around the bridge, their eyes falling upon the M-4 midway between them. The two clambered to their feet and staggered across the destroyed bridge, McHarris drawing another clip from his jacket. It was a race between them. McHarris got there first, ejecting the clip and trying to insert the fresh one, but Michael launched into a roundhouse kick. Not aimed at McHarris, but aimed at the clip. The kick connected, sending the clip flying out the shattered windows. McHarris threw the weapon away. "Alright then. We'll do this the old fashioned way." He immediately shifted his right foot backwards into a jujitsu stance.

"Fine by me." Michael changed his own stance into his preferred karate. The two began circling each other like big jungle cats, preparing for combat. McHarris struck first with a low kick. Michael stepped back, avoiding the sweep, but McHarris swiftly changed the angle and reversed the direction, sending the kick square into Michael's jaw. Michael stumbled, and only managed to block the first chop by McHarris, who launched a blurring flurry of hits. Michael staggered back and looked, stunned, at McHarris, who moved his hands at blinding speed. For an older guy, he was _fast_. "Woah." Michael shook it off, then took up his ready position again. McHarris grunted with distain. "You're so much like your father. He didn't know when to quit either" he snarled then launched into another flurry of strikes. But this time, Michael was ready. Whipping his foot up, he flicked something into the air and caught it. Then, before McHarris could react, Michael spun, swinging the object in a fast arc that ended with McHarris's head with a loud _crack_. The Company man went down hard. Michael hefted the object in his hands, the discarded Colt Commando assault rifle. "Nah. We just wouldn't quit when we were ahead." He dropped the weapon and went to Melanie, helping her to her feet. Melanie swiftly kissed him. "That's for taking out all those boats."

"Hey," Michael protested. "What about saving you from McHarris?"

Melanie looked up at him slyly. "That you get later."

Michael did a brief happy dance. Then, suddenly, he sniffed the air. "Smoke. The impact must have started a fire." He grabbed Melanie by the hand. "Come on. I don't think this boat is going to last much longer." With that, the two dashed off.

As the duo dashed through the boat, the smell of smoke grew stronger. "We've got to get off this thing before it blows!" Michael shouted.

"Well have you got any ideas?" Melanie asked.

"Yeah, just one." With that, they burst through one final door and emerged onto the weather deck. Less than two hundred metres away was a beach, with a cave extending into the cliff. "We swim for it."

With that, the two took a running leap and jumped, hand-in-hand, over the side of the _Circe_ and into the Pacific. Once they hit the water, they began to swim, heading for the beach. They were halfway there when bullets started hitting the water around them. Michael turned in the water to see McHarris firing at them with the assault rifle. "This isn't over Merckenson!" he screamed.

"Dive!" Michael shouted to Melanie. With that, the two dived beneath the surface. About ten metres down, Michael spotted a rock formation and gestured to it. He and Melanie swam behind it. Then holding her close to him, they waited.

McHarris spent his last few seconds of life firing futilely into the water. Unbeknownst to him, the fuel tanks of the super-yacht had ruptured in the grounding. As he reached for another clip, the fuel vapours came into contact with the flames from the fire in the engine room, causing a flash-fire that went right to the tanks. _Circe_ exploded, sending wreckage flying in all directions. On board the _Messernacht_, all on the bridge shied away from the unexpected detonation. As the wreckage began to rain down, the captain turned to Bickerson. "You reckon that they escaped?"

Admiral Bickerson said nothing, just grabbed a pair of binoculars and headed out onto the port bridge-wing. Kicking a flaming piece of wood into the water, he scanned the area beyond the explosion. A smile lit up his face as he saw two figures pop to the surface. "Well done Mr Merckenson," the admiral muttered to himself. "Well done."

Michael and Melanie, soaking wet, staggered out of the water. Melanie collapsed onto the sand just in front of the cave mouth, while Michael sat down beside her. "Well," he panted, "that was unexpected."

"Indeed." Melanie looked up at him. "I must say, life with you certainly isn't boring." Michael stretched out beside her. "Well, this is what I call my 'calm' time," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Fighting international terrorist corporations, saving damsels in distress, it's all just another day at the office for me."

"Oh I bet it is." Melanie leaned towards him, just as a magnified voice boomed out from over the water just beyond the burning super-yacht. _"Mr Merckenson, Miss Griffith, this is Major Jordan Junicol of Dradle Industries! We can't get to you because of the reef, but a helicopter will be here to pick you up in about thirty minutes. Just stay put and we'll have you out in no time!"_

Michael sat up. "Thirty minutes. Gives me enough time to work on my tan then."

Melanie got to her feet, leaned down and kissed Michael on the cheek. "Oh, I don't think so…" With that, she turned and walked into the cave, looking back at Michael seductively. Michael got to his feet and briefly looked out at the burning yacht and the departing _Messernacht_. Then, grinning, he turned and walked into the cave.


	25. Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Four

Michael sat in the _Seawolf Hunter_ control booth, watching as the countdown on the screen beside him made its way through the two-minute mark. Letting his breath hiss out from between his teeth, he spun his chair around to face Jake. "All set?"

Jake scanned through the various diagnostics that reported on the condition of the fighting vessel. "Engines are green, ammo loadout is 100, no leaks…Set to roll."

"Well alrighty then." Michael took a sip from his can of Coke and was silent for a moment. "So, this is it then."

"Yup." Jake turned to look at his friend. "We're in the final dogfight. Finally," he added with a grin.

Michael groaned. "Did you _have_ to add that at the end?"

"Of course I did. You would have if I hadn't."

"True." Michael spun back to his console as the warning buzzer for one minute. "Let's do this then."

In the press booth, Melanie made her way to her seat and sat down. The Dradle Industries bodyguard, recovered from the events of the day before, proceeded to take his seat beside her. She looked up at the big screen set up for the audience, and at the vast crowd gathered to watch the final engagement. Down in the crowd, she recognised Admiral James Bickerson and the captain of the _Messernacht_, standing among the fans, watching. She smiled, then looked over to where the control booths were located. "Good luck," she whispered as the timer clicked down the last five seconds and the starting horn blared.

Michael immediately shoved forward on the throttles, sending the _Seawolf Hunter_ blazing across the waves at full speed. At the same time, Jake activated the radar, looking for the elusive _Hydra_. "Got 'im," he called. "Come right to two-five-zero."

"Two-five-zero. Doing it," Michael replied, turning the vessel so that it barrelled towards its opponent at high speed. In less than a minute, a small white dot appeared on the horizon in front of the _Seawolf Hunter_. As the vessel closed the range, moving across the waves at 45 knots, the _Hydra_ came into view. Michael grinned, closing the distance until the two vessels were less than a hundred metres apart. "What are you up to Kurt?" As he said it, _Hydra_ literally slammed to a halt, braking impossibly fast for a boat. Michael tried to manoeuvre clear, and managed to avoid his stationary opponent by three metres. However, as the _Seawolf Hunter_ swept past, _Hydra_ rotated on the spot and raked her opponent with rotary cannon fire. Michael dodged away as the _Hydra_ got back up on plane and set off in pursuit.

The crowd cheered as the _Hydra_ tore into her foe. At the same time, Melanie sucked in her breath as the _Seawolf Hunter_ dodged clear. "Close one Mike," she muttered. The bodyguard grunted in approval, then helped himself to a handful of popcorn from the CNN anchor to his left.

Michael snarled to himself as various warning lights appeared on his display. "We've taken damage to the main cannon," Jake called out, "but the boosters and harpoon seem to be ok."

"Alright then." Michael flicked through the camera-angles, finally spotting the _Hydra_ astern and to port. The main cannon on the opposing vessel belched fire, sending high-explosive rounds into the water all around the _Seawolf Hunter_. "I think he's getting serious about this," Michael said as he tried to dodge the explosions that raked the water around his vessel.

"Well, you'd better get serious then too," Jake said in a stern voice.

Michael dodged another explosion. Then, inexplicably, he grinned. "Those mods to the booster software that Stan made. They still work?"

"Don't see why not," Jake replied. "What you thinking?"

Michaels grin grew wider. "Watch this bro…" His fingers dashed across the display before him, finally slamming down on one key.

The result was instantaneous

The jet booster on the _Seawolf Hunter_ emerged from their recessed slots. Then, with a roar, they ignited. With the modifications made by the Stan AI, the power that the boosters now held was, for lack of a better word, insane. _Seawolf Hunter_ fired away like a seven metre long, armour-plated, ship-shaped bullet, leaving the _Hydra_ in its wake.

The crowd went mad as the _Seawolf Hunter_ unleashed the full power of her boosters. Over the two combatants, a cameraman in a helicopter overhead struggled to keep the vessel in frame. Then, inexplicably, _Seawolf Hunter_ doubled back, heading _back_ towards _Hydra_. As the crowd watched on the big screen, the television audience watched on their televisions, and Melanie watched with the rest of the press, _Seawolf Hunter_ began to circle the _Hydra_, which suddenly slid to a halt as Kurt watched through his onboard cameras in bewilderment. As the camera zoomed in, an oily trail appeared behind the _Seawolf Hunter_, almost as if it was dumping its _fuel_ in a trail behind it. Then, with a loud _whoosh_, the circling vessel pulsed its booster, _igniting_ the fuel trail that encircled the _Hydra_.

Back in the _Hydra_ control booth, Kurt Rickardson looked around his vessel with his cameras as he waited for the flames to dissipate. Suddenly, with a loud ringing, the cell-phone he had left beside his control console began to ring. He picked up the phone and glared at the caller ID. Then, flipping the phone open, he raised it to his ear. "Yes, very nice Michael. But to what end?"

"_Oh, that's easy,"_ Michael responded. _"Knock knock._"

"Who's there?" Kurt responded.

"Look."

"Look who?" Kurt grinned.

"Look behind you." The line suddenly went dead. Kurt stared at the phone, then looked up at his screen. Acting purely on instinct, he slewed the Hydra around ninety degrees to starboard and opened fire. The water exploded from the impact of the shells, sending flaming spray into the air.

Then, Seawolf Hunter appeared.

Not on the water, but two metres above where the explosions raked the seas, Seawolf Hunter arrowed downwards, having performed a Cobra manoeuvre similar to in her semi-final fight. Jet boosters screaming, Seawolf Hunter scorched through the fire, through the flames, and through the air. To his credit, Rickardson reacted incredibly fast, correcting his aim and slamming no less than five high-explosive shells into the oncoming vessel before Seawolf Hunter slammed into Hydra at a thirty-five degree angle on the vertical axes with diabolical force, driving both vessels beneath the surface and out of sight.

The crowd, watching back on shore, fell silent as both vessels disappeared beneath the waves. All around the world, those watching the Naval Royale went silent, waiting to see what competitor would rise to the surface as the victor and winner. Melanie was on her feet, watching as the fire-circle flamed out and the cameraman in the helicopter looked for his subjects. Then, a rush of bubbles rose to the surface. And through the foam, Seawolf Hunter surfaced. Seconds later, towed by harpoon, the disabled wreck of the Hydra emerged, offline. The battle, and indeed the tournament, was over. The crowd erupted in cheers and roars of approval. In the press booth, Melanie got to her feet as the bodyguard raised the camera, ready to film her statement. As she tried to figure out what to say, Melanie suddenly smiled. "Film the crowd," she said, before striding across the room towards the door.

In the control booth, Michael leaned back in his chair and let his breath whoosh out between his teeth. "Can't believe that actually worked."

"Hang on," Jake said. "You're telling me you bet all of our hard work on a move you had no idea would even work?"

"Yeah, pretty much." Jake got out of his chair and strode across to where Michael has stood up. Jake glared at his friend, before slapping him on the back in a bear-hug. The two laughed in triumph at their victory, before walking to the door and emerging to the roar of the crowd. Michael raised his arms in victory and yelled, in a call that the crowd returned. Suddenly, the banging of footsteps on the cat-walk made him turn, just as Melanie leapt at him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him passionately, which made the crowd cheer even louder.

A loud cough behind the duo made Michael look behind him. Mr Stophanes, the Acting Chairman of the Naval Royale Commission, stood with the trophy in his hand. Speaking into a boom microphone, his voice echoed out over the crowd. "Ladies and gentleman, it is with great honour and privilege that I present the winners' trophy for Naval Royale 2010 to Team SeaMasters. Jake Delsio, Michael Merckenson, and the Seawolf Hunter!" The crowd roared in delight as Stophanes handed the trophy to Michael and Jake, shaking their hands as he did so. Turning to the crowd, the duo raised the trophy to the crowd, which roared in approval. As they did so, Michael looked to the sky. "For you Dad," he whispered. "Thanks for the help." Jake nodded, while Melanie wrapped her arms around Michael and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Merckenson!"

Michael turned. On the catwalk behind Jake stood Kurt Rickardson, his winning streak destroyed. Glaring at his defeater, Rickardson stalked over and looked Michael in the eye. Then, abruptly, he stuck out his hand. "Good match," he said, a smile breaking out on his face.

Michael accepted the shake. "You too Kurt. You too."

The two combatants stood like that for a moment, before Kurt broke away and headed off towards his booth. Then, suddenly, he turned back to Michael. "See you next season?"

Michael grinned. "You can count on it." Kurt grinned and headed away. Michael watched him go. Then, handing the trophy to Jake, he wrapped an arm around Melanie's shoulders, before heading away into the crowd that continued to roar in celebration.


End file.
